


Fixer-Upper

by imafriendlydalek



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (haha get it?), (pun intended), Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Domestic Fluff, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Home Improvement, In which an old run-down house in need of fixing is basically a metaphor for these two idiots, M/M, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Oblivious Tony Stark, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Sam/Bucky - Freeform, Skinny Dipping, Slow Build, Tony gives Steve a home, stupid idiots not realizing their feelings, until they do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:45:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5150729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imafriendlydalek/pseuds/imafriendlydalek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony leads the way up the steps to the house, and as the door swings open with a long creaking sound - note to self: oil door hinges - Steve’s eyes widen. He steps inside, turns slowly on his own axis as he looks around.</p><p>“Tony, this place, it’s…” There’s a sense of wonder in his voice. Tony smiles inwardly. It is just the kind of thing Steve would like. Steve, who has a keen appreciation for fine aesthetics, who has a healthy - okay, sometimes more than healthy - sense of history and an acute desire to preserve things he deems worthy. </p><p>“This place is a dump.” </p><p>Well, so much for that, then. Tony shifts his weight to one leg as he takes an appraising look. “It’s a bit of a fixer-upper, yeah, I’ll give you that, but it’s not past saving. Just needs some TLC.”</p><p>Steve uncrosses his arms and shoves his hands in the pockets of his pants. “Well listen, you ever want an extra set of hands with some of the work, just give me a call.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Autumn

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my contribution to the 2015 Cap/IM Big Bang! I was so, so lucky to get to work with the incredible [Lienwyn](http://lienwyn.tumblr.com) on this, who did all the [amazing artwork](http://lienwyn.tumblr.com/post/133013656111/i-signed-up-for-this-years-capiron-man-big-bang) and also provided input and inspiration for a few of the scenes and is an awesome person. Also inspiringly awesome is [OrbingArrow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/orbingarrow/pseuds/orbingarrow), who beta read and held my hand (figuratively, at least) and cheerleaded (cheerled?!) from the very beginning. Seriously, these two deserve at least 12% of the credit for this story. An argument can be made for 15 ;-) (well, plus the artwork, of course, which was ALL Lienwyn)

* * *

**August**

“Where are you taking me, Tony?” Pepper scoots lower into the passenger seat and crosses her arms. “You said this would be a work-free weekend.”

“It will be a work-free weekend, Pepper-pot,” Tony counters as he shifts to the next gear. There’s nothing quite like the open road…

“I’m not stupid, Tony.”

“I know that. You’re the most brilliant woman I know.” He catches her scowling at him in the corner of his eye and adds “And the most beautiful. And amazing. Have I mentioned how amazing you are?”

“I know this is the road to the Avengers facility.”

What? How does she know that? She had never come out to tour the site before he had made the decision to give up the Avengering.

“There’s not exactly much else out here,” she adds, as if she can read his thoughts. Christ, with the amount of time she’s spent with Natasha, she probably _can_ at this point. He definitely needs to make sure she never meets Wanda.

“Ah, see that’s where you’re wrong,” he objects as he slows to turn onto a side road. It’s one of those tree-lined country roads that winds around the hills, the kind of road that makes his gearhead heart sing as the Audi hugs the turns, and he gives it full throttle again.

Pepper’s doing the invisible brake thing.

“Almost there, Pep.”

“Good, these turns are killing my bladder.”

He winces as he remembers what he had failed to consider. “Uh, that might be a bit problematic, actually.”

“What?!”

“Well, the plumbing’s not quite… um, you brought your hiking shoes, right?”

“What?! What kind of backcountry place are you taking me to that doesn’t have working plumbing?”

Shit. This is not going at all the way he had hoped. She’s going to end up murdering him before they even get there.

“I can just turn around and we can pop by the Avengers facility to -”

“No,” Pepper interrupts. “As soon as you set foot in there, you’re going to find twenty pieces of equipment that urgently need upgrades and there goes my work-free weekend. Whatever, back to my Girl Scouts roots, I guess.”

“See, it’s that kind of entrepreneurial spirit that I love so much about you, Pep. I think you’ll really like where we’re going. It just needs a bit of imagination.”

“Imagina-” she starts but cuts off when their destination comes into view. “What is this?”

Two massive maple trees bracket the house, the evening sun glinting off their leaves. A hawk is perched on one of the gutters hanging from the second floor eave, and isn’t that just a hilarious coincidence. It had been Barton, after all, who had given Tony the idea to buy a house out in the country. Sure, Barton had also laughed in his face and called him a moron when Tony had mentioned to him that he had actually gone through with the idea, but what does Barton know anyway? That had been enough, though, to keep Tony from telling the rest of his former teammates about the house.

It’s a beautiful old house, the kind that home restoration enthusiasts get their panties all bunched up about. Your typical New England Victorian-era wood-frame house, with a porch around the front and matching fan-shaped transom windows over the door and on the upper floor, and cornices around the roof edge. Yeah, it needs work, okay, a lot of work, but Tony is an engineer and that’s what he does - he fixes things. Together he and Pepper can fix the house and build their home together. It’s, like, a metaphor or something.

He could already picture the two of them, well into their seventies but still spry on their feet and looking great, of course, sitting side-by-side in one of those swinging benches on the veranda on the south side of the house, sipping tea or whatever it is that old people drink while they watch the sun go down over the surrounding hills.

Pepper has already gotten out of the car and is walking towards the house, and Tony scrambles to catch up with her. He wants to see her face when they go inside their new home together for the first time.

“Tony, tell me you didn’t,” she starts when he takes her hand. His heart sinks.

“I did. I did this for us, Pep, a place for just the two of us. No one else knows about it. Just you and me, away from the rest of the world.”

Her lips quirk up just a bit at that. That’s enough for him, for now. He’ll take it.

“Come on, you’ll love it. It’s gorgeous inside. Just needs a little fixing.”

He pushes open the door and gestures for her to step in. Her eyes light up at the sight of the circular staircase and he feels a pool of emotions stirring inside him. He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her close, nuzzling his nose into the side of her neck.

“This is, wow, it’s beautiful.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s going to need a lot of work…”

“I’ll have time. No more superhero business to distract me. Just you and the house.”

“And Stark Industries,” she reminds him sternly.

He lets out an agonized groan. “And Stark Industries. But not here.” He presses a kiss onto her cheek. “Just you and me here.”

“Why do I have a feeling Stark Industries is going to be introducing a new line of home improvement tools soon?” she says softly, her fingers brushing over his cheek.

“You know me too well.”

The great part about the new Avengers facility, though it’s far from the happenings of New York City, is the wide open solitude of the surrounding countryside. Steve does occasionally catch himself missing the throngs of people, that feeling of being a part of all the _life_ that is going on around him, the fact that you can get almost any kind of food at almost any time of day (the bagels! Why are the bagels only half as good outside the five boroughs?!), but he genuinely enjoys the serene _quiet_ of the place. The facility itself is almost always buzzing with activity, but he just has to go a few hundred feet past the perimeter and it feels like he has the world all to himself.

He’s taken to running increasingly wider loops around the facility on his morning jogs. There’s a small town a few miles east of it, and the highway behind it. The woods to the north and west are part of a state forest, with plenty of trails for him to explore and rolling hills to race up. There’s a lake out there too, and he sometimes stops for a quick swim on hot days. The training fields lie to the south of the facility. If he runs all the way to their southern edge and crosses the stream that forms the natural boundary of the property, he can pick up what looks like an old farm road that will eventually take him into town.

That’s his plan today, but it’s a nice late summer morning and he got an early start, so when he comes to a track that turns off the farm road and over a small hill he hasn’t seen beyond yet, he decides to explore.

The trees thin out and when he reaches the top of the hill, he’s treated to a wide open vista of rolling fields with a lake and mountains in the distance. The track winds to the east and at the end of it, at the top of another small hill, sits an old house flanked by a red barn. It doesn’t look like anyone lives there, judging by how overgrown the property is, so Steve, his curiosity piqued, jogs the mile-or-so up the track to have a closer look.

The house is fancier than most of the farmhouses in the area; this looks more like an old manor house. A veranda runs along the ground floor overlooking the hill, but most of its windows are smashed or boarded up. There are bay windows on both sides of the house and a tower room juts out on the third floor. The remains of a wooden balustrade run along the second-floor roof. The house itself is in pretty poor shape, with the paint peeling away and visible storm damage in a number of places. A tree leans ominously over the side of the house.

It’s a shame, really, Steve thinks. The house is beautiful, and it’s evident that a lot of effort and love of detail went into its construction back in the day. Maybe Steve just has an overly attuned sense of history, but he finds himself hoping someone would restore the house. It would probably make a nice bed and breakfast, he thinks as he turns and heads back home. If only the neighbors didn’t have such a pesky habit of blowing things up.

**October**

An espresso machine. 

That’s what the house needs.

Okay, it needs new wiring, and new floors, some windows, a bit of siding, plumbing, a whole lot of paint, some sort of heating system and probably also a new roof, but that all will come in due time.

Right now Tony needs it to have an espresso machine.

He’s been working for seven hours straight. Hardly a record for him, barely even worth mentioning when you consider some of his more adventurous marathon workshop sessions, but this is hard, physical labor, not just brain exercises but actual heavy lifting and hitting things with a sledge hammer.

And all that without the suit, and more importantly: without coffee. Tony’s pretty sure he deserves a medal for that in and of itself.

Not that there’s anyone around to give it to him. Pepper had seemed to enjoy the rest of their visit that first time he had brought her out, and she’d shared a few ideas for the house, but that’s all “Phase 3” stuff. The house is going to need floors and walls before they can worry about parquet grains and crown molding.

‘Let me know when it’s liveable.’ She hadn’t said it directly, but the implication was there. The next time Tony had mentioned going up to the house, she had countered with a Board meeting in Malibu. The third time, it had been an investor crisis. And Tony gets it, he really does. She’s got the company to run and she’s shown saintlike patience with its absentee Head of R&D. That’s why he’s so determined to get this right. He wants the house to be perfect - _their_ house - and that’s why he’s doing it old-school, by hand, by himself. No throwing money at a problem to make it go away. Because he wants to show her - needs to show her - that he _is_ more than just his suit. It’s part of him, but it’s not everything. 

Pepper, on the other hand, is everything.

Which is why he needs to keep going, to get the house in shape. But to do that, he’s going to need coffee. He can do it without the suit, but without coffee? Let’s not get carried away. He sets down the pipe cutter and fishes his car key out of his pocket, and that’s when it hits him. That smell. It’s not something in the house, it’s _him_. He stinks.

Okay, so not going into town, then. Right about now, he really misses the ability to get anything delivered at any time of day in Manhattan. How do people live like this?!

Whatever, lamenting the lack of delivery options isn’t going to get caffeine in his veins. There is one other alternative, he thinks, tossing the key fob from his left hand to his right as he jogs down the steps and over to his car. They’ve got a shower he can use, and definitely a coffee pot or two (in each room). If he’s lucky, he’ll even be able to get in and out of there without too many people spotting him.

FRIDAY pipes up as he drives through the side gate of the Avengers facility and informs him that Natasha is out leading a training mission with Rhodey, Sam and Vision. The flyers, Tony thinks with a slight frown. Just a few months ago, that would have been him out with them. A stab of emotion shoots through him, but he pushes it down before he can work out what it is.

 _Don’t go down that road_ , he tells himself. _You’ve been down that road, and a lot of people got hurt._

Instead he takes an appreciative look around at what the new facility has become. It’s an impressive facility - of course it is, he helped design it - and he’s proud of what Natasha and Steve and Maria have shaped it into.

He makes it to the gym showers, only getting recognized by a few junior agents on the way, and as he steps under the warm spray, he tells himself aloud “They’ll be okay.”

Clint liked to tease Steve about how much time he spends beating up a bag of sand, and it had been endearingly annoying at the time, but as he unwraps the bandages on his hands, Steve does have to admit that Barton had a point.

There had been a sighting of the Winter Soldier in Malmö, Sweden, of all places, but by the time he and Sam had gotten there, he’d been long gone. As always. It was almost as if Bucky wanted to be seen but not to be found. And it was getting a bit frustrating. He would let them find him when he was ready to be found, Sam had said, but Steve worried that backing off might give the impression that finding him wasn’t a priority. Which it absolutely was for Steve.

When he wasn’t training the new team members or busy with the bureaucracy that comes with leading a team of superheroes that has a tendency to tango with trouble, he was looking for his friend. It gnawed at him, the knowledge of what had been done to Bucky after Zola had found him, what had happened to Bucky because he hadn’t been able to stop him from falling.

Survivor’s guilt, Sam had called it when Steve had opened up during one of the late-night insomniac walks around the facility that they occasionally (often) meet on. These were the thoughts that had caused the demise of many a heavy bag. He’s spared this one today, though, which is a good start, he supposes.

He gathers his wraps and heads for the locker room. The air is thick with moisture and there’s a bag lying out on one of the benches. Steve figures it probably belongs to one of the junior agents, which is a little strange since he had been alone in the gym, but thinks nothing more of it as he starts to pull off his gym clothes.

Which is why he’s caught completely by surprise when Tony Stark appears in front of him.

“Cap.” Tony sounds as surprised as Steve is. His damp hair is hanging down into his eyes, which look more tired than usual, and all he has on is a towel slung around his waist.

“Tony. What’re you doing here? I mean, this is unexpected. You usually call ahead, and don’t, you know, turn up in the showers.” Steve is suddenly painfully aware of the fact that he’s only wearing sweaty boxer briefs.

Tony cracks a smile, the genuine kind of smile that makes his eyes wrinkle, then he breaks out in laughter as he pulls Steve into a hug. “It’s good to see you, Steve,” he says before pushing him away again. “But not so good to smell you. Geez, Cap, warn a guy.”

“Well where did you think I was headed?” Steve gives Tony a playful shove as he pushes past him towards the shower, shedding his briefs and grabbing a towel on the way. He stops in the doorway and looks over his shoulder. “You’ll be around for a bit?”

“Just popping in to steal all your coffee and say hi. Come find me when you’re not so naked. Geez Rogers, you sure know how to give a guy inferiority complexes.”

Steve flips his friend off casually as he ducks through the door to the shower room. “See ya later, Shellhead.”

He turns on the water and steps under the spray. He certainly hadn’t been expecting to run into Tony in the shower. Well anywhere here, really. Tony was supposed to be in New York. He had let them know that he wasn’t going to be around much, that he needed to put some distance between himself - Tony Stark - and Iron Man. Stark Industries needed him, Tony had said, but Steve knew Tony well enough at this point to hear what he wasn’t saying. It was pretty evident that things were frayed between him and Pepper, that they had been even before Ultron. Steve could see why, too. It had to be tough for Pepper, to watch as Tony threw himself in harm’s way time and again. But as much as Tony denied it, they _are_ soldiers, Tony included. They put themselves in danger to keep others safe. But they also keep each other safe. And not just on the battlefield. The team had grown so close during those months they’d all been living together in the Avengers Tower in Manhattan. They’d become attuned to one another, and it had really shown as they fought together.

And then it had fallen apart. Bruce was gone, and Natasha, as much as she kept her emotions close to her heart, was having a tough time dealing with that. Clint was back with his family, the family no one except Natasha had known about because the best way to keep someone safe in their line of work was to keep them secret. Pepper had almost been killed by someone trying to get to Tony, after all. That was probably when things started to fall apart for them, Steve reflected. Tony definitely loved her with all his heart, that was clear from the unbridled and often excessive way he showed it, but grand displays and overtures can’t patch a crack in the foundations. Even when they’d been living together at the Tower, Pepper had been in and out a lot but was rarely there for any real length of time.

Tony hadn’t said it (he never would), but Steve knows that’s why he didn’t come along when the team moved upstate. He comes by for visits about once a month, which is great, but he always lets them know beforehand and tries to schedule his visits so most of the team is there. He usually comes up with a pretense - new wings for Sam, stingers for Natasha, enhancements to the magnetic gloves he’d designed for Steve, improvements to Rhodey’s suit.

This time feels different, Steve thinks as he turns off the water. Most of the team is out on a mission, including Rhodey, who Tony spends most of his time with during his visits. Steve and Wanda are the only Avengers on site now, and Tony and Wanda aren’t exactly best buds. On top of that, it’s four o’clock on a Saturday afternoon. His other visits had always been during the week and he usually flew in by quinjet, but Steve would have heard it if that was how he’d arrived this time, so he must have driven. Which is a long trip if he’s planning on heading back tonight.

Well, Stark’s bound to have his reasons, whatever they are, and Steve doesn’t really care what they are because he’s just glad to see his friend again. He finishes toweling off and dresses, ignoring the lightness in his steps as he heads off to find Tony.

Predictably, he finds him in the science lab with a cup of coffee in each hand. Steve lingers in the doorway, leaning against the frame as he watches Tony pester the scientists.

“...that’ll give you a lot more durability at about half the weight.”

“Yeah, but it’s about three times the cost of the aramid blend,” one of the scientists counters.

“There’s that. You guys really should find yourselves a better sponsor, geez. Tightwad bastard.”

The scientist laughs as she turns back to her screen. “Yeah, someone should talk to him about that.”

“I volunteer as tribute,” Steve says with a smile.

Tony spins around, a look of mock surprise on his face. He claps a hand - and a coffee mug - over his heart. “Capsicle, did you just make a pop culture joke?”

“I did.”

“Rogers, I have a heart condition. You can’t just surprise a guy like that.”

“You _fixed_ your heart condition, Stark, and _you’re_ the one who snuck up on _me_ in the locker room.”

The scientist raises an eyebrow at that, her gaze carefully fixed on the screen.

“Clint made me watch that movie after you called him Katniss when we were fighting those Doombots and I didn’t get the reference. I think you were at a conference in Edinburgh for that movie night.”

Tony huffs. “Let me guess, he spent the whole movie ranking on her archery stance?”

“He did,” Steve recalls with a faint smile. It had been a fun night. “It was almost as bad as that time he made us all watch I, Robot.”

Tony shoots him a glare and wags a finger at him. “Most unrealistic representation of-” he starts mumbling, but Steve interrupts him with a nudge.

“Come on, Stark, let’s let these guys actually get some work done and I can show you what we’ve been up to.” He resists the urge to add “and you can tell me what brings you here.”

They head to the lounge that is the unofficial gathering place for the Avengers, keeping up a steady stream of jokes and light conversation on the way. Tony takes an appraising look around and makes a beeline for the coffee pot on the counter to refill his mug, then plunks himself down into the oversized armchair and throws his legs over the armrest.

“You know,” Steve says, settling onto the couch next to it, “I don’t think that’s how it’s meant to be used.”

Tony takes a long sip from his mug and gulps dramatically before he replies. “It’s called innovation, Steven. We’d never get anywhere if we only used things the way they were designed to be used. Teflon was made for artillery shells, but someone thought to put it on a cooking pan and chefs around the world thank them for it. Hell, beer was just a failed attempt at making bread. Sometimes you gotta chuck your preconceived notions out the window to come up with something awesome.”

“You know, that would almost sound like a profound revelation if you weren’t just saying it to justify not sitting up straight.”

Tony tosses a pillow at him half-heartedly, but it misses by a long shot. Steve watches it sail past and land a few feet from him. It’s nice to have Tony around, he thinks. He’s missed their banter.

“Speaking of beer, I’ve got a few bottles from the brewery in town. It’s pretty good. You want one?”

Tony kicks his feet over the armrest and sits up. He seems to be considering the offer for a moment before he says “sure.”

When Steve returns from his apartment, Tony has moved over to the couch Steve had been sitting on. He’s doing something on his phone, but he pockets it when he sees Steve come in. Steve hands him a bottle as he drops into the couch next to him and Tony shifts so he’s angled towards Steve, his back against the armrest. He brings his leg up onto the couch, his knee bumping Steve’s thigh.

“Cheers,” he says, tilting the bottle towards Steve. “And thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Cheers,” Steve replies and takes a sip.

“No, I mean thank you. Not just for the beer. It’s good to see you, Steve.”

Steve smiles. He’s about to say it’s good to see Tony too, but Tony speaks first.

“This is good. And it’s from out here?”

“Yeah, there’s a place in town that brews it. Pretty good food too.”

“Huh, who’da guessed. I didn’t think there was anything around out here.”

“Well, there’s not much. There’s the brewpub, a B&B, a grocery store, couple of other places. A bunch of new businesses moved to town after we started that energy program.” 

That earns him a smile from Tony, and Tony has every right to smile about it - it was his brainchild after all. The Avengers facility is powered by its own arc reactor, which produces a lot more energy than they need, so the excess energy is sold at a reduced rate to the residents of the town and to local businesses, but only the local ones to avoid big corporations from taking advantage. The program has proved to be a huge boost to the local economy, bringing new jobs and drawing more families to move to the area.

“There’s a decent Chinese food place now even, but no good bagels, just the crummy supermarket ones. Which is a shame.”

“I’ll be sure to bring some next time I come up,” Tony offers with a smile.

“Oh god, that would be amazing,” Steve says, groaning at the thought of a New York bagel, and as he does, his hand involuntarily drops onto Tony’s leg. He looks down to where his hand lies, gives his leg a quick squeeze before pulling his hand away. He looks up and his eyes catch Tony’s.

Tony quirks a smile and takes another sip of his beer. “I’ll try and come more often. You clearly miss those bagels.”

They end up chatting until late in the evening and finishing the six-pack between them. It’s too late to make the drive back anyway, Tony says as he tries to hide another yawn, and he agrees to stay in one of the guest rooms.

When Steve heads out for his daily run the next morning, though, Tony’s car is already gone. It’s understandable - Stark’s a busy man - but Steve can’t help but feel slightly saddened.

They’ve called in an extraordinary Board meeting. It’s such a misnomer, Tony thinks not for the first time. These meetings are anything but extraordinary. Extraordinarily dull, maybe.

If he had even half the drawing skills Steve has, he’d be doodling pictures of all the Board members in capes. Or the Avengers in a Board meeting. There’s a funny mental image: Fury suggests disposing of assets and Thor smashes the table with Mjölnir.

God, Tony is bored. It’s the third one this quarter. You’d think at some point they’d just start scheduling them more regularly so they can call them what they really are: painfully ordinary.

Tony’s mind is wandering. He is so fucking sick of rehashing the ramifications for Stark Industries of the events in Sokovia and Wakanda and SI’s involvement in rebuilding. It’s pretty damn clear for Tony: his mess, so his to clean up. But not even _his_ bank account is deep enough to cover all of it, especially not with the expenses of keeping the Avengers facility running and rebuilding the Tower (again… hopefully this third time’s a charm), so SI is going to have to get involved.

Except every time there’s a story in the news about Sokovia or Wakanda or even the Avengers, the Stark Industries share price drops. Which is so not fair; Tony’s not even one of the Avengers anymore. Pepper’s taken the businessman’s perspective on the matter: It’s hurting the company, so we need to disassociate ourselves from it. Tony has given so many press conferences stating that he is no longer part of the Avengers team, nor is he involved in their active operations, that he can do them in his sleep by now. He’s pretty sure he has, actually. He certainly dreams about it frequently enough. He wakes up in a cold sweat more often than not, the image of his friends - Natasha, Bruce, Clint, Thor, Steve, hell even Fury, Coulson and Hill some nights - staring at him with looks of utter betrayal for publically denying their friendship again. At least in this dream they’re not all dead, he thinks, and he feels himself frown as he does.

“You could at least _pretend_ to take part in these meetings,” Pepper tosses at him afterward. Her expression is so, so sour. Whatever happened to his sweet Pepper Potts?

“I was there. I listened. Some. I responded when spoken to.” He moves to step closer to her but thinks better of it when she crosses her arms and leans back against the desk. He’d followed her back to her office after the meeting, hoping to catch a few moments alone with her before she heads off to Malibu for the rest of the week, but this is not what he’d had in mind.

“You insist we stay so closely involved in this, you could at least get involved in what it’s doing to us. The company,” she clarifies quickly.

Tony slumps down into one of the leather armchairs, consciously keeping the length of the room between them even though he longs to reach out for her. He remembers a time when her touch used to be reassuring. Damn. He also longs for a good stiff drink, but he pushes down that desire too. “I need to do this, Pep. This is all a part of it. Of that choice I made all those years ago. To clean up the Stark messes.”

“Cleaning up shouldn’t cause more messes.”

Her curt words cut through his last shred of resolve and he gets up and walks out of her office. He makes it to the elevator before he breaks down, his knees buckle and he slides to the floor.

“JAR- FRIDAY, stop the elevator.”

He doesn’t know how long he sits there in the silent, unmoving elevator. He keeps turning his hands over, again and again. They’re clean, not even any grease under his fingernails, but all he sees is blood dripping from them.

So much blood.

“Um, I think you’re doing it wrong.”

Steve, Sam and Rhodey are goofing around in the gym at the end of a workout session, and Sam was just demonstrating a rather obscene alternative to pushups that is, in fact, not the correct way to do them. Rhodey is bent over in laughter and Steve is trying his best to keep a straight face. They all turn at the sound of Tony’s voice.

He’s standing in the doorway with an amused look on his face, though the smile does not quite reach his eyes, and a large brown paper bag in each of his hands.

“Special delivery for Captain Carb-Fiend. Two baker’s dozen bagels imported all the way from Brooklyn, New Yawk.”

In hindsight, it’s a little embarrassing how quickly Steve is on his feet and across the gym to where Tony is standing. Maybe it’s also a little weird that he wraps Tony up in a bearhug.

“I don’t remember getting that kind of welcome when we got back from a mission, do you?” Sam asks, looking at Rhodey.

“Nope, definitely not,” Rhodey confirms.

Steve pulls away quickly, rubbing the back of his head before taking the bags Stark is still holding and shaking them at Sam and Rhodey. “ _You_ didn’t bring me bagels from New York.” 

He flashes Tony a smile of thanks; Tony returns the gesture.

“That’s because we were in Wisconsin.”

“Coulda brought some cheese, Platypus,” Tony says, holding his arms open to offer Rhodey a hug, which he accepts.

“Coulda. Didn’t. What brings you to town?”

Tony pats Rhodey on the chest. “I come bearing gifts. I’ve been fiddling with the repulsor output levels, so there’s new gauntlets waiting for you in the quinjet and a fancy new outfit for Wanda.”

“I see how it is,” Sam ribs.

“Hey, I can’t bring everyone presents every time I come up here. You guys will get spoiled.”

“They already are,” Steve pipes in, mumbling around a mouthful of blueberry bagel. 

“Shut up, bagel boy,” Sam says, tossing a towel at Steve.

“Alright kids, I’m gonna go point out all the mistakes in whatever the science team is working on. You all need to hit the showers. Sheesh. But I hear there’s a good burger joint in town. Maybe we go check it out later?”

“Sounds great, Tony,” Rhodey says. Steve and Sam nod in agreement.

A few hours later, after Tony and Rhodey have put the new gauntlets thoroughly through their paces, they’re headed into the brewpub.

“We have to keep an eye on Wilson. He keeps trying to hit on the manager.”

“Shut up, Rhodes. We’ve been out twice already, I’ll have you know.”

“He’s just jealous cuz he was after her too,” Steve stage-whispers to Tony. Sam preens as he holds open the door to the restaurant while Rhodey scowls.

“Look at you guys, already getting wrapped up in small-town dating drama.” Tony shakes his head in amusement. “What about you, Cap? Anyone caught your eye? The lady that runs the B&B, maybe?”

Steve lets out a laugh. “Myrtle is very nice, but she’s also about 73.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a bit young for you, huh?” Tony says with a grin, taking off his sunglasses as they slide into the booth.

“Hey guys,” the manager, Elena, greets them, laying a menu in front of each of them. 

“Hey back at you,” Sam replies. “Elena, this is our friend Tony. Tony, Elena.”

Steve watches as Tony flashes his meeting-new-people smile.

“Hi Tony. You guys know what you want to drink? The usual?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve replies. The usual is a pitcher of the home-brewed lager. They start with one, but it usually turns into two or more by the end of the night, depending on how many of them are out. Natasha and Wanda come along most times; Vision, on the other hand, tends not to come along often.

Steve can’t help but smile as he watches Tony and Rhodey bantering. He understands and completely respects Tony’s decision to distance himself from the team, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

He was aiming for an early start the next morning, to sneak out of the facility before most people were up, and he’s just about managed it, he muses proudly to himself as he’s filling his thermos with coffee, except then Captain Morning Person wanders in from his morning run.

“Hey Tony, heading out already?” Steve opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of Gatorade, twists it open and takes a long gulp. A bit dribbles out of the corner of his mouth and he wipes it away with the back of his hand, which he then runs through his hair. Tony’s eyes catch Steve’s as he drops his hand again.

“Uh, yeah. Gotta head out, lots to do. You know how it is, always busy.” He’s rambling again. Dammit.

“Oh. Well, it was great to see you again,” Steve says, and he looks so crushingly sincere. “And thanks for the bagels.”

“Sure thing, Cap. Anytime. I’ll consider it a standing order.” He picks up his thermos and heads for the door. “Tell the others I said bye,” he adds over his shoulder.

The great thing about quinjets is that, unlike normal planes that are restricted to runways and airports and boring stuff like that, they can be landed in just about any open space. And while it seems silly to _fly_ the handful of miles to his house, he can’t exactly leave the jet at the facility and then come back on foot in a few days to pick it up again. That would definitely raise a few eyebrows. 

So he makes the short flight, hoping no one is actually watching his flight path - at least not anyone who cares enough to ask questions or doesn’t know better not to - and touches down again in the clearing in front of the house. There’s a slight breeze, and the remaining golden leaves on the trees around the house rustle quietly. He breathes a deep sigh as he takes it in. It is a beautiful house. Full of potential.

“Time to get to work,” he says aloud as he jogs up the steps to the front door. There’s lots to be done, but first the holes in the roof need to be patched and the broken windows have to be replaced. After all, he says to no one at all with a smile at his own joke, “winter is coming.”

**November**

It’s been a few weeks since Steve has run along the old farm track to the house on the hill, so he decides to head that way. It’s nearing the end of autumn, and the leaves still clinging to the trees are all shades of red and yellow. He revels in the crunch of the leaves under his feet as he runs along. He certainly didn’t get views like this in New York City. Luckily the stream is narrow enough for him to jump across with enough speed, because the water has definitely gotten too cold to wade through. Even for people who don’t have an inherent distrust of cold water.

He’s wrapped up in thought as he jogs around the bend where the house comes into clear view, but he stops in his tracks as soon as he notices it. There are tarps covering parts of the roof and the new plywood over the previously broken windows stands out against the rest of the weathered siding.

So someone has bought the house, he thinks. Good. It needs some TLC.

He doesn’t see anyone around now, though, so he loops around to have a look at the front of the house. A camper van is parked next to the old barn and off to the side there’s a portable toilet, but the fancier kind that probably self-composts. He’s seen ones like it at some of the campsites in the area.

He’s glad to see that someone has decided to fix up the old house, but he can’t help but feel slightly saddened. This place has become like his own local secret spot - he’s come out here a few times and sat in the crook of the old oak out front when he’s needed to gather his thoughts - and soon he won’t be able to come by anymore.

This belongs to someone else now.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of tires on the gravel driveway. Must be the new owners, he thinks, and he’s about to duck behind the house and head back to the facility when he recognizes the riff to Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap streaming from the car’s stereo.

“Sonofabitch,” Steve says aloud when he sees the familiar garish orange lacquer of the car. STARK 7, the license plate reads.

The car slows, then pulls to a stop just in front of him. The door opens and Tony steps out.

“Well, well, well. Figures. Old man, old house. Who’d have guessed.”

Steve narrows his eyes at Tony. So much for skirting the topic, then. “What are you doing here, Tony?”

Tony pulls his sunglasses off. “Uh, this is my house. What are _you_ doing here?” he counters, gesturing at Steve with the glasses.

“I was jogging in the area,” Steve replies defensively.

“More like trespassing on my property,” Tony snaps.

“Well I didn’t know it was your property. Because, you know, you didn’t _tell_ anyone.”

Tony frowns at that but softens his tone when he replies. “Yeah, it’s my latest project. Who doesn’t love a nice old house? I’d appreciate if we could keep this between us, though. I’m trying to keep it off the radar. On the DL.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “You sure that’s a good idea? I mean, after last time?”

“Oh, be-lieeeeve you me, I have learned from that one. No, this is nothing like that.”

Steve shoots him a skeptical look, so he continues. Cat’s out of the bag now anyway. “I’m doing this old-school - kinda like you. Come on in,” he says, clapping Steve lightly on the shoulder, “you’ll like it, I bet. No tech here, not even FRIDAY, just good old-fashioned hard work. Call it catharsis or something.”

He leads the way up the steps to the house, and as the door swings open with a long creaking sound - note to self: oil door hinges - Steve’s eyes widen. He steps inside, turns slowly on his own axis as his gaze follows the grand oval staircase that sweeps up to the second and third floors, taking in the entry foyer, the octagonal gallery behind the staircase, the twin sitting room and living room on either side of the foyer. Steve rubs a hand idly through his hair as he looks around.

“Tony, this place, it’s…” There’s a sense of wonder in his voice. Tony smiles inwardly. It is just the kind of thing Steve would like. Steve, who has a keen appreciation for fine aesthetics, who has a healthy - okay, sometimes more than healthy - sense of history and an acute desire to preserve things he deems worthy. 

“This place is a dump.” 

Well, so much for that, then. “Ouch, Rogers. Words hurt, you know.”

Steve smiles at him. “It’s got a lot of potential.”

“Better.” Tony relaxes his stance, shifting his weight to one leg as he takes an appraising look around. “It’s a bit of a fixer-upper, yeah, I’ll give you that, but it’s not past saving and I think it could really be good. Just needs some TLC.”

Steve lets out a huff. He steps into the gallery, looks around again, then turns to face Tony. “This is a beautiful house, Tony. The details are really remarkable. I’m sure you’ll do a great job fixing it and bringing that out. That’s what you do, after all.”

Well shit. He wasn’t prepared for a statement like that. 

“Come on, I’ll give you a tour,” he deflects. He clasps Steve’s shoulder and gestures for him to step back into the foyer, then leads him through each room, pointing out the things that need to be worked on in each. They finally reach the open gallery on the third floor, where the floorboards creak slightly under their weight. Steve steps in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, one of the few that isn’t broken. Tony watches as he looks out over the grounds. It’s a clear day, and with most of the leaves gone from the trees, the Avengers facility is just barely visible in the distance.

Finally Steve turns his gaze from the window and looks at Tony with a smile. “You know, when you said you were thinking of following Barton’s lead and buying a farm for you and Pepper, I thought you were joking.”

“I wasn’t joking. I never joke. I’m a hundred percent serious all the time.”

Steve cocks his head slightly and crosses his arms.

“Okay, that might be an exaggeration. But I figured it might be nice to have a place for just the two of us, me and Pep, somewhere we can get away from it all…” He flicks idly at the chipping paint on the windowsill.

“Pepper hates it, doesn’t she?”

Damn that super-soldier and his heightened powers of observation.

“Yeah. Oh god, she does. Won’t come up here with me. But,” he continues with a shrug, “I figure once it’s fixed up she’ll be able to appreciate it for what it is.”

Steve uncrosses his arms and shoves his hands in the pockets of his running pants. “Well listen, you ever want an extra set of hands with some of the work, just give me a call. I’m in the area, after all.”

“Goddammit Rogers, one more snarky comment from you and I will staple your ass to this roof.” Tony waves the staple gun at Steve in a way that’s probably meant to be menacing.

Steve just laughs. “I’m just saying…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Well how ’bout you go ‘just say’ it over there and haul up the rest of those shingles. Put those biceps to use for once.”

Steve shakes his head at Tony with a soft laugh as he steps carefully along the sloping roof to where the hoist for the roof shingles is. He gives it a hefty tug and the pallet lifts up off the ground. A few good pulls and it’s at roof level. Tony reaches out to reel it in, struggling somewhat under the weight.

“Got it,” he grunts. He pushes it into position and Steve sets the pallet down carefully as Tony pulls out a pocket knife to cut open the bundle.

After a few hours, they’ve managed to finish the rest of the roof. Tony sets down his hammer and sits cross-legged with his back leaned up against the chimney, surveying their handiwork. Steve unhooks his toolbelt and slides down next to him.

“We done good,” he says.

There’s a smile on Tony’s face as he replies. “Yeah, we done good. Couldn’t have managed it without you, Steve.” He reaches over and gives Steve’s shoulder a pat.

“Glad to help,” Steve says. “I like doing it. Feels like we’ve accomplished something real. I could’ve stayed home and gone over some mission files or played Halo with Rhodey and Sam, but no. I helped put a roof on a house.”

Tony huffs out a laugh. “You put a roof over my head.”

“Well you’ve done it often enough for me. Come on,” Steve says, getting to his feet and offering Tony a hand, “this calls for beer and burgers.”


	2. Winter

* * *

**December**

Tony knocks back another glass of scotch, savoring the burn of the alcohol in the back of his throat. He taps the bar to signal the bartender for another.

This is the third charity event he’s had to go to this month. The weeks leading up to the holidays are always a whirlwind of one fundraiser after another. Tony doesn’t usually mind them this much, but there are so many places he’d rather be tonight than this ballroom. He runs through his mental list of things to do on the house as he looks around the room at all the socialites trying to one-up each other. He’s managed to get it mostly ready for winter with Steve’s help - the roof is finished, the broken windows have been replaced or at least covered and the foundation is patched. It’d be great to fix the south wall soon - if he can ever steal away from these events long enough to get up there.

The bartender slides a filled glass across the bar and Tony nods his head in thanks as he stuffs a few twenty-dollar bills into the tip glass. He leans back against the bar and lifts the glass to his lips. Pepper is on the other side of the dancefloor talking to the CFO of SynergyTech. Poor girl. He really should go rescue her, he thinks, and he’s about to make his way over when she flips her hair to the side and laughs. Huh. He knows that move. She used to do that when he said something funny. She hasn’t done that in a while.

Not since the thing with Killian.

Shit.

Steve leans his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. It’s been a long, frustrating few days. He and Sam have been out on another “missing person mission”, as they’ve taken to calling them. A tip had sent them to Riga and they’d followed the trail across half the former Soviet states until it had gone cold again in Krakow. Natasha had referred to the Winter Soldier as a ghost when she’d first told Steve about him, and he’s definitely starting to believe it.

So here he is, in a bargain hotel in Poland two weeks before Christmas. Sam had suggested they at least go check out the Christmas market, but Steve had waved him off saying he wasn’t in the festive mood, so Sam had gone without him. Now he’s starting to regret staying behind as the frustration starts to give way to that nagging feeling of loneliness. Winters have always been difficult - it had been winter when his mother died, it had been winter when he lost Bucky, and it had been winter when he had gone into the ice.

He opens his eyes and reaches for his phone, hoping that maybe scrolling through the news will get his mind off things for a bit. It doesn’t. Then the little envelope icon wobbles to indicate a new message. He presses it and a photo opens - an obnoxiously large wreath with baubles hand-painted with the symbols of each of the Avengers, or at least the old team. The Iron Man bauble is the largest, of course. The wreath is hanging from a red and gold ribbon on what Steve recognizes as the door of Tony’s upstate house.

He smiles and taps out a reply: **Getting in the holiday spirit, I see.**

A reply appears a few seconds later. **Deck the halls with boughs of ME**

 **falalalala** , Steve replies.

**You’re just jealous because the Cap stuff only sells on July 4**

**You’re just jealous because your birthday isn’t a national holiday.**

**By the time I’m your age, it will be**

**January**

Tony lets out a sigh as he trudges through the snow. His legs are already wet up to the ankles by the time he reaches the door.

_Shoulda brought some boots, Stark._

He’s reaching into his pocket for the key when he notices something fluttering out of the corner of his eye. “Great,” he mutters when he recognizes the wreath he had hung on the door the last time he had been here. Wind must have blown it down. He stoops to pick it up and turns it over - the Hulk bauble is missing and the Iron Man bauble is smashed. Well isn’t that just perfect. He brushes some of the snow off the wreath and hangs it back on the door. It’s only been a few weeks, but it feels like ages ago that he had bought the wreath at the Girl Scouts fundraising gala. Pepper had dragged him along and he’d resisted, as always. Maybe if he hadn’t put up such a fight, if he’d just gone along without arguing, if he’d just given her what she wanted… Why does he always fuck things up?

He shoulders the door open and steps inside. The house is dark and cold - there wasn’t time to get the heating working before winter set in, and the system needs to be replaced anyway. He’s going to have to give up his secrecy act and hire someone for that, but it can wait until next fall. Not like they’re going to be living in the house any time soon, he reflects as he wanders into the empty gallery. He looks out over the snow-covered hills, his breath fogging the frosted windows. 

Not like they’re going to be living in the house together at all.

He runs his hand through his hair, leaning his elbow against the window frame.

“Let’s face it, Tony.” Pepper’s words rang in his ears, seared in his memory. “This isn’t working. We aren’t working.” 

He’d tried to argue with her - no, _reason_ with her - of course, had tried to explain that he is different now, that things would be different. He’d given up the Avengers, had given up being Iron Man. He’s given up so much of himself, but it wasn’t enough. He should have done more to keep her.

“I can’t handle the stress of worrying,” she’d said, and he’d tried to explain that she didn’t need to worry, that that was all in the past, that he was building a home for them away from all the stress of New York, of Stark Industries, of all those memories.

Tony runs his fingers over the flaking paint as he walks through the archway into what will one day be the library. Or would have been the library. What’s the point in still working on the house if Pepper isn’t there to live in it with him. He knocks his forehead against the wall, then kicks it, hard. The lathing crumbles, leaving a gaping hole where his foot went through. He watches the dust fall to the ground in swirls, steps back, pushing against the wall. One step, two steps. Feels his knees buckle, lets himself sink down to the floor. These floorboards need work. Better add that to the to-do list. Or not. Why bother? It’s just an empty house now. Not even really a house. Just an empty shell - some wood beams half-heartedly holding up a bunch of roof shingles and some broken windows. Is it still a house if it doesn’t house anybody? Is he still Iron Man if he doesn’t use the suit? Is there any point in trying to fix it if Pepper won’t be around to see it? Tony isn’t even sure anymore if he means the house or himself.

God he needs a drink. Why did he leave all the liquor out in the RV? Who does that?

He pushes himself up to his feet, makes his way to the door. That’s when the clouds shift and the sun streams in through the windows along the front of the house, casting a colorful pattern on the floor in the center of the stairwell. Huh. Tony steps carefully up the stairs to find the source of the colors and there it is, in the window on the second floor landing. The broken panes have been replaced with an intricate stained glass panel. Tony moves closer to get a better look. It looks like a family crest, the Stark name written in bold letters at the bottom. Just above it, orange and red bursts on a black background, then the Iron Man suit soaring across the sky above it all. There’s Stark Tower, the Avengers A in bright white. A row of silhouettes, DUM-E and U and the old team unmistakable among them, looking up at Iron Man.

Tony clutches the landing to steady himself as he takes it in. “Rogers, that sonofabitch,” he says aloud as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

Steve’s phone is buzzing, pulling him out of his thoughts. He sets his paintbrush aside and picks it up.

 **Thanks for the present** , the message from Tony reads.

**You did say you wanted the halls decked with boughs of you.**

**It’s a good start**

Steve pushes back from his easel and paces across the room. He’d told the others he would be around in the evening for movie night, but suddenly he really wants to cancel those plans.

 **Are you at the house? You need a hand?** he taps out hesitantly.

A minute passes without a reply, then two. He goes back to his easel, picking his brush up again. Maybe Tony isn’t there, he tells himself. Maybe he’s wrapped up with something else. Maybe Pepper is with him. _You have other plans anyway_ , Steve reminds himself. And then his phone buzzes.

 **Actually, I could use a friend** , the message reads.

Steve jumps to his feet, almost knocking over his paints in the process. He taps out a quick reply that he’s on his way and pulls on his boots. Natasha and Wanda are sitting in the common lounge as he passes through.

“I, um, need to take care of something, so I won’t make it for movie night,” he says, wincing inwardly at his awkwardness.

Natasha’s lips quirk upwards, indicating that she knows something’s up, but all she says is “Careful driving in the snow.”

Steve nods quickly as he heads out the door. Tony’s house abuts the property of the Avengers facility, but it’s a good ten minute drive on the country roads, and longer in the snow.

There are no lights on in the house when he pulls up in front, but he follows the footprints in the snow from Tony’s car up the steps to the unlocked door.

“Tony?” he calls softly as he pushes the door open carefully. There’s no response, so he slips inside and looks around. No sign of Tony in the sitting room, or in the living room. Nowhere downstairs, actually, so he continues up the stairs and there’s Tony, just under the stained glass window Steve had made for him. His back is up against the wall, his knees pulled up to his chest and his breath coming in quick puffs, tiny clouds of vapor in the cold air.

“Tony,” Steve says. He resists the urge to ask what’s going on. Tony will tell him when he’s ready, or at least when the time is right, Steve has learned.

“Hey Cap,” Tony says, the tone of defeat evident in his voice.

Steve blinks, momentarily taken aback. Tony hasn’t called him anything but Steve - sometimes Rogers - since they started working on the house together. He decides to let it slide, though, and settles on the floor next to Tony.

“I see you got my present,” he puts forth.

“Yeah, thanks for that. It’s great. Really. I love it.” Tony’s tone of voice is unconvincing.

“This place needed some color. Until Pepper picks out the paints, of course. You can take it down if you want,” Steve adds quickly.

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“Oh, well, then I’m glad you like it.”

Tony lets out a sigh. “No, I mean the color schemes. Pepper won’t be picking those out. She-” Tony pinches the bridge of his nose “- she left me.” He grinds the words out, as if saying them hurts physically.

“Oh god, Tony, I’m sorry. I had no idea. I shouldn’t have said - shit, are you okay?”

Tony shrugs, letting his head fall back against the window frame with more force than he probably should. “I should have seen it coming. Or maybe I did, I just didn’t know what to do.”

Steve sits next to Tony in silence, letting those words sink in. His mind wanders, as it so often does, back to everything he’s lost, to everyone who’s gone. That vision Wanda had put in his head, of what could have been, what never can be - dancing with Peggy, going home.

“Tony, I’ve lost a thing or two in my time. I know how impossible it seems right now to think that things can go on without it, but they will, and eventually you’ll find that you too can go on.”

“I didn’t lose this, Steve. I drove it away.”

Steve turns his hands over, splaying his fingers. He’s not sure where to go from here, what the best way to handle the situation is, but he knows that the hardest part of coming to terms with his greatest losses - first Bucky and then, well, just about everything when he woke up after the ice - was going through it alone. So he stays put, one palm resting reassuringly on Tony’s knee, and they sit together in silence.

**February**

The spaghetti pot is threatening to boil over and the onions are getting a bit over-sauteed.

“You almost done with those tomatoes?” Steve asks as he moves to get the oregano from the cabinet. He turns a little too quickly, crashing into Tony standing behind him.

“Ow! Watch it, Rogers!” Tony brings his finger to his mouth and sucks it. “I’m choppin’ here!”

“Sorry!” Steve apologizes, placing a hand on each of Tony’s hips and pushing him aside lightly so that he can reach up into the cabinet above Tony’s head. Tony prods him in the ribs as he does so. “This kitchen is way too small.”

“Hey now,” Tony protests, gesticulating towards Steve with his chopping knife, “don’t knock the Airstream. This is the Mercedes of RVs.”

Steve pops open the container of spices and shakes it carefully into the pan. “Doesn’t make it any bigger.”

“Maybe you’re just too big, my dear triangular friend. Even Airstream can’t be expected to design for super-shoulders. Super-soldiers,” he corrects quickly, blinking as he tries to wrap his mouth around the words. “Geez, try saying that three times fast…”

“If only we had a house nearby that had a kitchen…” Steve teases.

Tony responds by sticking out his tongue. “Well we gotta stabilize the flooring and put up the insulation before we can tackle the kitchen in the house. And walls. It’s gonna need walls.” 

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Yes, walls are important, I hear.” He turns down the heat on the spaghetti and stirs it with a fork. 

“We could’ve just gone out for dinner,” Tony says with a slight frown as he scrapes the chopped tomatoes into the pan.

“Or we could’ve gone over to base and had dinner with the team,” Steve replies, regretting it instantly when he sees Tony’s reaction. 

Tony pulls back, leaning against the table, which is about as far as he can get in this cramped space, and folds his arms across his chest. “Listen, you’re more than welcome to go there if you’d rather have space.” 

Steve watches the strands of spaghetti swirl as he stirs the pot. Tony had made it clear from the beginning that he wants to keep the house project between the two of them. Steve still doesn’t quite follow his reasoning, but it is what it is. Tony has had a rough time, between removing himself from the team and then the break-up with Pepper a few weeks ago, and what he needs from Steve is a friend. He’s still not sure why Tony has decided to share the house project with him and not Rhodey other than that Steve had found out about it so Tony had had no choice, but Tony is bound to have his reasons. Steve is determined to be there for him and if Tony needs to keep this to himself, then Steve is going to respect that. He had been a little surprised when Tony had called him a few weeks after that evening in the stairwell to tell Steve that he was coming out to the facility to bring upgraded boots for the War Machine suit and to ask if Steve wanted to come work on the house with him. Tony had made it sound like the house had been something he had chosen to do for Pepper, and Steve had almost expected him to give it up now that things are over between Tony and Pepper, but then again, Tony Stark is never one to leave a project unfinished. Steve is glad for it - he would have missed working with Tony on the house.

He sets the fork down next to the stove and turns to Tony, catching his gaze and holding it. “I’m sorry, Tony. What I meant was - you’re welcome at base anytime, even just for dinner. I know everyone would be glad to see you, especially Rhodey.”

Tony slumps somewhat, the tension in his body easing. “Yeah, I know. I’m just…” He runs a hand through his hair idly. “...not up for an interrogation about the state of my relationship or lack thereof.” 

Steve nods in acceptance and turns back to the stove. “Dinner’s almost ready. How about you set the plates out?”

“Aye, aye, Capt’n.”

**March**

Steve’s words stick in Tony’s mind and he finally decides to follow the old man’s suggestion just a few weeks later. And damn, if Steve wasn’t right. They welcomed him with open arms - some more figuratively than literally - and it almost felt just like back at Avengers Tower. With a few changes to the lineup, of course. Tony leans back into the couch, his shoulder propped against Natasha as he watches Sam, Rhodey and Steve go head-to-head in Mario Kart. They’re sitting in a row, cross-legged with Steve sandwiched in the middle, physically body-checking each other and calling out insults as they run each other off the virtual road. It’s a silly side of Steve that Tony hasn’t seen before. 

“Are they always like this?” he asks Natasha. 

“When they’re playing Wii, definitely.” 

“And when Steve is driving,” Wanda adds. 

“And that time Sam was outmatched by an ant,” Vision points out. 

Tony looks over to where Vision and Wanda are nestled next to each other on the smaller sofa. Steve had mentioned the budding romance between those two a few months ago, and it’s not hard to see the easy affection in the way Wanda’s legs are hooked around Vision’s. It’s still a little weird, even though it’s been almost half a year, to hear Vision speak with JARVIS’ voice. JARVIS had been so much more than an AI to Tony and while FRIDAY has taken on all those tasks admirably, the loss of JARVIS still stings. Tony’s eyes meet Vision’s briefly before both glance away quickly. Tony wonders if Vision feels the same awkwardness around Tony. 

“Haha, eat my dust!” Steve’s triumphant exclamation calls Tony out of his thoughts. On the screen, Princess Peach is spinning around victoriously in her car while Yoshi and Toad watch dejectedly. 

“Whatever,” Sam says, “I won the last three times. Thought it might be nice to share the throne.”

“Too kind,” Steve snarks. 

“Rhodey, are you just going to let that stand?” Tony interjects. “Gonna accept defeat from Princess Peach?” 

“Them’s fighting words, Stark,” Steve says pointedly. 

“That sounded like a challenge to me,” Sam says.

“Definitely a challenge,” Rhodey agrees. 

“Alright boys, I’ll show the old man how to drive,” Tony says with a grin as he pushes himself up from the couch.

Four rounds later, Peach and Bowser are two-for-two. Tony glances over to Steve, whose brow is furrowed in concentration as he cuts the corner tight. He’s been biting his lower lip; it’s taking on a darker shade of pink. 

“I’m coming for you, Princess,” Tony warns. 

Steve shoves a shoulder into Tony’s side as he leans into the corner. “You’ll never catch me, Bowser. You’re too heavy.” 

Sam snorts behind them. “Look who’s talking, Captain Big Breakfast.” 

Tony cackles as his car slips past Peach just before they cross the finish line. He raises the steering wheel controller above his head and pumps it in the air triumphantly. “Ha ha, the heavy machinery always wins in the end!” 

Rhodey pulls him in for a celebratory hug accompanied by a clap on the back from Sam. Natasha rolls her eyes at them. 

“This game, it turns grown men into children,” Wanda observes. 

Rhodey releases Tony from their embrace and Steve lays a hand on Tony’s arm. “Good match, Stark. Even if you just got lucky,” he adds with a shrug and a lopsided smile. “But that was some good driving.”

“Aw shucks, Peach. You’re gonna make me blush.” 

“Will you boys just hug it out already?” Natasha calls, tossing a kernel of unpopped popcorn that hits Tony on the nose. 

Tony’s eyes meet Steve’s, who has a smile on his face wide enough to cause crinkles around them, and Tony counters with a smile of his own. “Come here, you pretty princess,” he says as he pulls Steve in for a hug. Steve follows willingly enough, his long arms wrapping around Tony’s waist, his hand warm between Tony’s shoulder blades. Warmth emanates from him, spreading through Tony’s entire body, and he lingers in the hug just a little bit longer than decorum dictates. Damn, who knew Captain America was such a good hugger? He hadn’t realized how much he had missed physical contact in the past weeks. When they finally do pull apart, he immediately misses it again, in a strange way he hadn’t missed it when he had hugged Rhodey just moments before. 

He turns the thought over and over in his mind later as he lies awake in the bed in one of the spare dormitory rooms at the base, not sure how to deal with it. That’s probably all it is, he decides - loneliness. Not a new feeling for him, after all. Tony makes a mental note to show up at the next SI event - he could just about always find someone to help ease the loneliness for the night at those back in the day. Might as well give it a go again.

Tony stops by the Avengers facility a few more times after that with new gear for the team but doesn’t make any mention to Steve about working on the house. It’s been cold though, Steve figures, so there’s probably not much Tony needs his help with. Tony’s name does start popping up in the news more often, though usually in connection with whatever model he was spotted with at the latest event. Steve passes it off as a PR move to show that the old Tony Stark, darling of the press and the genius mind behind Stark Industries, is back. He pushes away the lingering concern that it’s just a farce, Tony’s way of concealing what he’s actually going through, hiding those emotions he had laid bare that day just after New Year’s. But Steve soon has other things on his mind, bigger things to worry about than Tony Stark living out the “playboy” part of his reputation when Bucky comes home.

They’re out on a mission - Sam, Natasha and Steve - clearing out a Hydra holdout in Detroit. It’s a tough fight, made even more difficult by the freezing cold torrential rain. They’re exhausted by the time it’s over, the Hydra agents all taken out or taken into custody. 

“My left-wing for a hot shower,” Sam says, wiping raindrops from his goggles as they head back to the quinjet. Natasha reaches out suddenly and grabs his arm to stop him, lifting her other hand to her lips and making a “shhh!” gesture. Steve stops in his tracks and scans the area. There’s movement along the rooftop just ahead of them. Steve pulls his shield off his back as a figure drops down from the roof, flinging it as the figure rises to a standing position. There’s a flash of silver as the figure raises his left arm and catches the shield. 

Steve feels his stomach tighten. Bucky. 

He stands absolutely still, about ten meters away from them. There’s a streetlight just behind him casting a shadow across his face. Steve watches as Bucky moves the shield to his right hand, spinning it between his hands once before holding it out towards Steve. “You’re going to want to hang onto this.” His tone is neutral, his voice even.

Steve steps towards Bucky carefully, closing the distance between them. “It has come in handy one or two times,” Steve replies, trying to keep the tone light.

“This thing saved your sorry ass almost as many times as I did when you were still little.” He says it with a slight laugh. 

Steve is right in front of Bucky now, close enough to see the dark circles around his eyes, the frown lines around his mouth. 

“Bucky,” he says carefully. 

“Steve,” Bucky replies quickly. He’s holding the shield out for Steve to take, which Steve does.

“Thanks.”

“You boys ready to head home,” Natasha calls, “or are you having fun getting drenched?”

Steve watches Bucky’s face, trying to assess his reaction. Bucky cocks his head slightly to the side. “If you’ve got room in that fancy jet o’ yours, I wouldn’t mind getting out of the rain.” 

“Plenty o’ room,” Natasha says coolly, nodding her head towards the quinjet to indicate that they should follow.

Bucky follows quietly as they board the jet, looking around carefully as Steve and Natasha run through the takeoff procedure. Steve watches Bucky out of the corner of his eye. He still can’t quite believe that Bucky is there, that he’s coming back to the base with him.

“There’s a towel for you if you want to dry off,” Sam says, indicating towards the empty seat he’s laid a dry towel out on. “We can move around the jet once we get up to cruising altitude, but we’re gonna have to buckle in until then.” 

Bucky shrugs, picking up the towel and sitting down without a word. He slips into the harness belt, wincing ever so slightly when it snaps into place. He leans his head back and puffs out a heavy breath. 

“All set, Cap,” Sam says once he’s taken his own seat. Steve nods to Natasha. 

“Engaging lift-off thrusters,” Natasha says as she pulls back the lever and the jet slowly lifts off the ground. She narrates the takeoff procedure, saying each step in a soft voice. It’s not something she usually does, but it seems to be putting Bucky at ease. Sam takes over once they’re through with takeoff, explaining the route to Bucky and letting him know what to expect in carefully chosen words that still sound like lighthearted conversation. Once the jet reaches cruising speed over the ocean, Sam lets Bucky know it’s okay to unbuckle and move about the jet, which Bucky does. Natasha nods to Steve to indicate that she’s got the jet under control, so Steve unlatches his seatbelt to join Sam and Bucky. Before he gets up, he sends a quick message to the team at the facility to let them know about their extra passenger. The Stark logo flashes across the screen after he hits send, as always, and he calls up the contacts screen to send one more message.

Tony sets the drill he’s tinkering with down to pick up his blinking phone. He usually doesn’t bother looking at incoming messages when he’s working, preferring to let FRIDAY handle them as needed, but there’s a short list of contacts whose messages and calls should be pushed through and Steve Rogers is up near the top of it. He flicks the phone to beam the message onto one of the screens.

 **We found Bucky. He’s coming back with us. -SGR**

Tony feels his lips twitch as he reads it and he’s not sure why. He’s happy for his friend, truly. He tries to imagine what he would be like in Steve’s position, if something like that had happened to Rhodey. ‘Rhodey has been in that position.’ The thought pops into Tony’s mind and he grips the counter to steady himself while he pushes those memories back down again. 

Breathe, Tony. In, out. In, out. 

He grabs for his stool and sinks down onto it, his breath still coming in gasps, and starts counting.

2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19, 23, 29, 31, 37... At 859, his breathing is more-or-less back to normal and he buries his face behind his hands, propping himself up on the counter. It’d been a while since he’d had one of those. 

He runs his hands through his hair before picking up the drill again. He fiddles around with it idly for a few moments, but his mind is elsewhere and he can’t focus, so he chucks it aside again. A few hours later he’s surrounded by beautiful women in the VIP area of some club, pleasantly numbed by copious amounts of alcohol. It almost helps him forget.

He stumbles to the men’s room, reeling in a built blond on the way whose name he doesn’t even bother to ask. He leans his head against the wall as the blond wraps his lips around Tony’s cock, closes his eyes to shut out the world. He comes quietly, his hands pressed up against the tiles, and finds that he has managed to forget the world, at least for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, okay, some might say March isn't technically winter anymore (though it definitely still snows in March in upstate New York!), but that's when they find Bucky (or rather, Bucky finds them) and I couldn't not make that reference. It had to be done. Not even sorry.


	3. Summer

* * *

**June**

Steve glances up at the house, his gaze following the planes of the sloping roof, the sweeping lines of the cornice, the intersecting angles of the bay windows, before returning to the sketchbook in his lap. The charcoal moves across the page and as he sets pigment to paper, the sketch begins to take shape.

The field around him is abuzz with activity - chirping insects, a few bumblebees collecting pollen from the dandelions, a songbird chirping from one of the trees overhanging the house.

But that and the scratch of his charcoal on the paper are the only sounds today. Various super-villains seem to have decided to give the Avengers some time off, and it’s just as well. Bucky has been making leaps and bounds in working through his time lost to Hydra, but some days are still tough. It’s a sentiment Steve knows too well from his own experience adjusting after the ice. He still has his own days where it seems like too much to take in, after all. But Bucky has a support network around him, which helps a lot, and today Natasha had offered to be with him. Too many people could get overwhelming, and Steve wanted to clear his head anyway, to get away from the near-constant bustle of activity at the facility, so he’d jogged over to the house even though Tony is in Malibu for the week.

He’d worked for a while and somewhere between setting tiles in the kitchen and knocking out old wall lathing in the library, he’d finally managed to reach the peace of mind he’d been hoping for. Zen achieved, he’d grabbed his drawing supplies and headed down to the south field to capture the early evening light.

The house is really starting to come together, he muses. As long as they can get the heating up and running and the holes in the siding patched, it should be livable by the time winter rolls around. Even if Tony hasn’t mentioned any plans to actually live in the house. Steve’s not really sure what Tony’s motivation for fixing the house is anymore, with his original plan to live there with Pepper clearly a thing of the past, but he does seem to simply enjoy fixing things no matter what they are or how big or small, so maybe he’s just enjoying the project. Which is the same reason why Steve is here, after all.

“So how’s the foundling finding his feet?” Tony asks, his voice strained as they slide the new window frame into place.

“Well, really well. Surprisingly well, actually,” Steve replies, holding the frame while Tony hammers it. “Sam put him in touch with a counselor, which has really helped, and he’s even started joining the rest of the team for movie night and team dinners.” Steve pauses, remembering the movie nights they used to have at the Tower - Clint’s stupid comments, Tony and Bruce pointing out all the scientific inaccuracies, his own difficulty following all the cultural references. It’s similar now, with Sam and Rhodey doing an admirable job of taking over making stupid comments and Bucky, Vision and to some extent Wanda new to a lot of the references. It’s not quite the same, but it’s nice. Even if Bucky’s good days make the bad ones - the days when he won’t come out of his room at all, the nights when Steve gets awoken by Bucky’s screams from the other side of the wall - stand out all the more. 

“Good. I’m glad for you,” Tony says. “Honestly I’m a little surprised you wanted to come out here and keep working on this. Thought you’d want to be with your friend.” 

Steve wipes a hand over his forehead. “He had a counseling session this morning, and Sam was taking him for a drive after that. Besides,” Steve adds, “I like coming out here. It’s nice to get away from everything else for a while.” 

Tony grunts as he lifts another window and Steve rushes over to give him a hand.

“Plus since you’ve stopped coming out to visit us, this is the only time I hear from you besides the tabloids.”

Tony mumbles something incoherent around the screwdriver in his mouth as they position the window frame. He doesn’t repeat it once he takes the screwdriver out of his mouth to screw the window in, so Steve figures it wasn’t meant to be heard and doesn’t pry. 

They work efficiently together and by the end of the afternoon, all of the windows on the veranda have been replaced. Steve steps back to admire their handiwork as Tony finishes screwing the last window into place. The south field is covered in dandelions, a bird of prey flying lazy circles overhead. He glances over to see Tony smiling at him. 

“We done good,” Tony says, reaching out to give Steve’s shoulder a squeeze. “Come on. Nice veranda like this needs to be enjoyed. Think I’ve still got some of that beer you like so much out in the RV.”

**July**

A good chunk of the fun of coming out to the house and working on it with Tony is listening to his near-constant babbling. Steve hadn’t noticed it as much when they had all been living together at the Tower, but then again, he hadn’t spent all that much time in the workshop when Tony was in Science Mode. 

At first Steve had thought Tony was talking to him, and had tried to answer, even though most of what Tony said didn’t make sense. Then it had dawned on him, as Tony shushed a creaking floorboard while he pulled out an old nail and assured it that the hurt would be gone soon, that Tony was, in fact, talking to the house.

He doesn’t see them as things, Steve had come to realize. For Tony, everything is its own entity, has its own story, and it’s his job to figure it out and fix it. Even if it maybe doesn’t need fixing. Like the floor sander that’s now repulsor-powered. But that’s another matter. 

It’s probably why Tony had decided to keep going with the house project, Steve surmises. It needs fixing, so Tony will fix it.

Today the focus of his attention is one of the walls between the dining room and the kitchen. They’d decided to knock it out to open up the kitchen, so Tony had worked out where the supporting beams are and is busy knocking down the walls between them while Steve is in the foyer, sanding the peeling paint off the spindles of the staircase. It’s slow, mundane work, but perfect for a rainy day like this, and Steve finds the rhythmic nature of scraping over the wood oddly soothing. He can already picture how the staircase will look once the old paint is gone and it’s been given a fresh coat of lacquer - it’s already beautiful, but once it’s done, it will be breathtaking.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Steve hears Tony say from around the corner as his sledgehammer smashes into the wall, sending a cascade of splinters crashing to the floor. “I know. It hurts. It’ll be over soon,” he promises as his hammer hits the wall again. “And then it’ll be so much better. You’ll feel so much better. All new and strong and restored.” 

The hammer hits the wall again and the house actually groans. Okay, maybe he’s personifying it a bit, but there’s definitely a distinct sound of wood on wood as the house settles. Steve sets the sandpaper down and ducks around the corner to see why Tony has suddenly gone quiet.

He’s standing in front of the wall, one hand reaching out towards the hole in the wall but not quite touching it. Steve watches as he leans forward, closer to the wall, and traces his fingers lightly over the exposed wood beam.

Steve steps into the kitchen, and that’s when Tony jerks his hand back and turns to look at him. 

“Hey, Capper-Dapper,” Tony says, his smile warming. He waves for Steve to come over. “C’mere, you’ll like this. Take a look.”

Tony steps aside and Steve peers into the hole. The beam inside is dark wood, aged over the years, and covered in marks. On close inspection, he can start to make out letters carved into the wood. _N. Mayfield, R. Mann, G. Forbes, B. Ericsson, C. Bowen, N. Rowley, S. Rogers_

Steve sucks in a sharp breath. He looks over at Tony, who catches his gaze and just _stares back_. “What-” Steve starts, but finds he can’t finish the thought. 

There’s a light touch on Steve’s forearm as Tony’s fingers brush over it. “Must have been the guys who built the house,” he says quietly. “Here, look.”

He’s pointing just below the last of the names. _1883_ the carving reads.

Steve finally snaps out of his daze and shoots Tony a smirk. “I know what you’re thinking, so for the record, it wasn’t me. That S. Rogers.” 

“Yeah, I got that,” Tony says with a laugh. “There’s lots of Steve Rogerses. And even you are not that old.”

Tony shrieks as Steve prods him in the ribs. “Ow!”

“You deserved that,” Steve grins.

“Yeah, I might have,” Tony concedes, rubbing the spot where he’d been poked. “Hey, come on, time to update the list.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a utility knife, flips it open and squats down next to the beam.

“Wait, you can’t-” Steve blurts out, reaching to grab Tony’s shoulder.

Tony shifts around to look up at Steve. “What’s the matter, Steve?”

“It’s- you’ll- this is _theirs_. We can’t take that from them.”

Tony blinks back at Steve, then stands again to look him squarely in the eye. “We’re not taking it from them. We’re gonna leave this here, we’ll put some protective coating on the wood but we’ll leave it exposed so everyone can see and know who built this house, who poured a bit of themselves into each corner and every nail and floorboard and cornice and support strut. This house wouldn’t be here without N. Mayfield or R. Mann or G. Forbes, but it also wouldn’t be here without S. Rogers the Second and A. Stark. We’re all a part of this house, you and me and the other S. Rogers and little ol’ N. Rowley.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair, nodding slowly. “Yeah, okay. You’re right.”

Tony smiles and hands him the knife, gesturing for Steve to go first. “Age before beauty,” he says teasingly.

Steve twirls the knife in his fingers as he narrows his eyes at Tony. He’s careful to add a playful tone to his voice when he says “You know, no one knows we’re out here…”

Tony lets out a hearty laugh, steadying himself with a hand on Steve’s arm as he clutches his stomach. “There’s worse ways to go, I guess. I can see it now. ‘Here lies Tony Stark, stabbed to death by Captain America. He probably had it coming.’ Good one, Peach. Go on,” he says, gesturing towards the beam, “hop to it.”

Steve crouches down, hesitating briefly before he sinks the knife into the wood, carefully scratching his name into the beam. He looks at the carving for a moment once he’s done, then stands and hands the knife to Tony.

Once Tony’s done, they both step back to look at the beam, their arms folded as they stand in silence.

Tony is the first to speak. “Now it’s official. We’re a part of this house.”

Steve catches himself smiling, but doesn’t answer.

“Come on, Steve,” Tony says, nudging his arm with his shoulder. “Let’s go get some food.”

“Uh, actually, I probably need to get going,” Steve replies. “A bunch of us were gonna head to the brewpub for dinner, and I should probably shower first. But you could come along.” His voice cracks on the final syllable. _That’s strange_ , he thinks.

Tony seems to consider it for a moment, his head cocked to the side. “Yeah, alright,” he finally says. “I’ll meet you there.” 

A feeling of elation rolls through Steve and he’s really not sure why. “Great,” he says, brushing a hand over Tony’s arm as he moves past him towards the door. “See you around eight.”

“You got it, Peach.”

“Well look what the cat dragged in,” Rhodey says when Tony walks into the brewpub an hour and a half later.

“Is that any way to greet the guy that signs your paychecks?” Tony retorts, wrapping Rhodey up in a warm hug. 

“Oh please, all you sign these days are autographs - when you manage to pull yourself away from the latest hot blonde.” 

Tony raises an eyebrow at him before he remembers that thing that ran on the front page of all the gossip rags a few weeks ago. What was her name again? Melinda? Miranda? Madeline? Oh no, that’s right, Meredith. He quirks a smile and winks at Rhodey. “Jealous?” 

“Hell no,” Rhodey replies, and that’s when the restaurant manager Elena appears and slips an arm around Rhodey’s waist. 

“Hey beautiful,” he says, brushing a kiss on her forehead. 

Tony shoots him a confused look, then looks over to Sam, who doesn’t seem fazed at all. He’s leaning casually against the wall in the corner of the booth, Bucky close next to him. 

Tony points to Elena, then Rhodey, then Sam, then back to Elena. He shrugs and snaps his mouth shut before sliding into the open spot in the booth next to Steve and Natasha. 

“Best not to ask,” Natasha stage-whispers, leaning across Steve. 

“Small-town dating dynamics, like you said,” Steve says with a wink. 

“And then there’s Steve’s dating life, which is about as dynamic as a cinderblock,” Sam responds.

“It’s more like a unicorn,” Bucky chimes in. “People talk about it all the time, but it doesn’t _actually_ exist.”

“I hate you all,” Steve mumbles into his glass.

Tony’s got to give it to Barnes. Back in the world only a few months and already ribbing Rogers. Tony decides he likes him.

And he doesn’t seem to be the only one, Tony thinks, noting just how close Bucky is leaning up against Sam. Huh, fancy that.

“So this is what Earth’s mightiest heroes get up to on their nights off these days, huh?” Tony snaps his fingers and claps his palm over his fist as he says it.

“Says the guy who drives up from the city just to join us,” Rhodey retorts.

Tony’s about to make a witty comeback but snaps his mouth shut instead.

**August**

Steve leans back, resting his head against the back of the quinjet seat with a soft groan. 

“You took quite a hit, Cap.” He opens his eyes to see Natasha smiling meekly at him. There’s an ice pack pressed against her temple, a bruise already starting to form.

“You did too.”

“You should see the other guy,” she counters with a shrug. Behind them, Sam is stitching up the gash on Wanda’s arm while Rhodey fiddles with his battered suit.

“Those suckers packed quite a wallop.” Steve is really starting to hate Doombots. There’s a ding from inside his pocket and he pulls out his phone to check the message.

**Heard you guys took quite the beating. Everyone alright?**

**Nothing that won’t heal. We beat them back harder. War Machine suit might need an overhaul, though.**

**I’ll put in some time in the shop later. Just finishing up a working lunch with Pep. Tell Rhodey I’ll be up on Friday with a new suit for him.**

**Thanks Tony. Say hi to Pepper.**

**I live to serve. She says hi back. Think I might tackle the old pipes in the house while I’m up there. Could use a hand if you’re free.**

**Installing plumbing sounds like the perfect way to spend the weekend.** He adds a winky face for good measure.

“What are you smiling about, Cap?” Natasha’s question pulls Steve back into reality.

“Oh, nothing. Just asking Tony if he can patch up War Machine’s suit.”

Natasha’s clearly biting back a smile, though Steve’s not sure why. 

“What are _you_ smiling about, Nat?”

“Nothing. It’s just - I know you gave Bruce some advice, you know, before everything else happened, about not waiting too long.”

Steve raises an eyebrow at Natasha. She doesn’t often talk about Bruce - Steve can tell it’s still a sore spot. He’s surprised she’s bringing that conversation up now, out of the blue.

“Maybe you oughta take your own advice.”

“I’m not waiting on anyth-”

His phone dings again. 

**Got something better planned?** the message reads.

**Unsurprisingly, no.**

“Yeah, no, I can totally see that,” Natasha mutters as she gets up to join Sam and Rhodey.

“Hmmm, that was good,” Tony says, rubbing a hand down his stomach.

Steve nods in agreement. They’ve just finished the steaks Tony grilled for them on the barbecue. It’s become their unspoken tradition: work on the house during the day, grill dinner out on the patio behind the veranda afterwards. 

“It’s really coming along,” Steve says, nodding towards the house. 

Tony casts an appreciative glance behind him. Steve’s absolutely right. It’s come a long way since last fall, and they’ve really gotten a lot done in the past few months. The foundation’s been fixed and the flooring’s been stabilized, which means they can move on to the walls and siding soon. And of course the plumbing - that’s really helpful to have now. That pathetic excuse for an outhouse had really lost its novelty over the months. Steve’s help really has been invaluable - Tony wouldn’t have come half as far without him.

“Sure is,” he agrees around a sip of beer. He turns to see Steve gazing furtively into his bottle. Tony knows that look - he’s done it plenty of times himself. “Something on your mind, Steve?”

Steve takes a deep breath, gives the bottle a swirl and takes a long sip. “I don’t know. I just- never mind. It’s nothing.”

“Steve, come on.” Tony sits up in his chair and leans over towards Steve. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“You couldn’t affo-”

Tony interrupts him with a snort and smirks. “Yeah, that one’s not gonna work with me.”

Steve rubs a hand over his face as he leans back into his chair. “It’s just - I don’t know. I’ve got my best friend back, the team’s coming along great, we’ve got missions every so often but there hasn’t really been anything majorly terrible lately. I’ve got just about everything I have been fighting for…” 

“But? Still feels like something is missing?” 

“Yeah. Kind of. Sometimes I think maybe Ultron was onto something. What if I don’t know how to live without a war. It’s what I was made for, after all. What am I without that?”

“It’s what _Captain America_ was made for. But you’re so much more than just Cap. You’re _Steve Rogers_. One of the greatest men I have ever met.”

Steve smiles meekly. “Thanks, Tony.”

Tony reaches out to take Steve’s hand, gives it a quick squeeze and drops it again quickly. “I’m serious, Steve. Maybe you’ve just lost sight of that. You’ve been doing what you feel that you need to do for so long. What is it that you _want_ to do?”

“Right now I just want to to cool off,” Steve replies with a grin. “Wanna come with me to the lake, take a dip?”

“Didn’t bring swim shorts,” Tony replies with a raised eyebrow.

“Neither did I.” Steve winks and turns to head down the path towards the lake. “Come on, Shellhead. Nothing we’ve never seen before.”

“This is your idea of payback, isn’t it?” Tony mutters as he jogs up behind Steve. “Did I not get you a nice enough present for your birthday or something? Is that why you’re doing this to me?”

Steve says nothing but grins.

“You’re trolling me.” Tony throws up his hands. “Oh my god, Captain America is trolling me. Someone call Fox News - he’s not as squeaky-clean and innocent as we all thought.”

“You knew that about me long ago, Tony.” They’ve reached the lake now and Steve bends down to untie his shoes.

“And now he’s shoving his ass in my face.”

Steve wiggles his hips a little just to annoy Tony some more as he shimmies out of his shorts. “Come on, old man,” he says, tugging his shirt off and dropping it next to his shorts. “Water’s nice and cool.”

Tony scrambles to kick off his shoes. Luckily Steve’s got his back turned to him so he doesn’t see or he would be laughing at Tony for losing his balance while he’s trying to take off his pants. Okay, but really, Tony tells himself, _anyone with eyeballs_ would get distracted watching that perfect golden-ratio triangle of a man wading out into a lake in his birthday suit as the sun sets behind him.

Steve dives in once he’s knee-deep in the water, disappearing beneath the surface and it’s only when he comes up again far out in the lake that Tony realizes he’s still rooted in place. “Fuck,” he mumbles to himself as he looks down at himself. _What the hell?_ The water’s cold enough to make _that_ go away quickly enough, thank god, as Tony swims out to join Steve.

**September**

Steve can’t help but appreciate the fine workmanship that went into these windows as he drags his brush over the frame, watching the paint spread over the wood. They’ve saved as much as they could of the original frames, though the new, more energy-efficient panes are thicker and a number of the windows had been beyond saving. Tony had managed to source the replacements from a company a few towns over that specializes in custom woodwork, though, and the new windows are a perfect match, the only indication that they aren’t original being the fact that they aren’t painted. Which Steve is working on correcting while Tony is pottering around with the wiring in the kitchen. Steve had tried to reason with him that perhaps it was more important to get the heating in working order and some flooring installed before worrying about getting FRIDAY up and running in the house, but Tony had countered that now was the time to do it, before they finished the walls.

At least Tony had conceded on the need for some basic furniture. Those camping chairs on the patio were starting to sag - they probably weren’t designed to hold a super-soldier’s weight - and with the summer drawing to an end, it would be nice to have somewhere indoors to hang out in the evenings. 

Steve dips the brush in the can of paint again, swirling it around a little and brushing off the excess paint on the lip of the can before bringing it up to the window frame again. He’s almost done with that frame when Tony wanders in and sinks dramatically to the floor next to him with a heavy sigh. His arms and legs are splayed out in all directions and his head lolls to the side.

“Ugh. I hate wiring.”

Steve lets out a laugh. “Didn’t you build a particle accelerator by yourself in your basement?”

Tony lifts his head just high enough to glare at Steve. “I did. But those were desperate times. And also it didn’t need so much _wiring_. This is just pulling out old wires and threading new ones in. Tedious, fiddly detail work. The kind you need little fingers for.”

“Well I can’t help you there,” Steve says with a shrug.

“No, guess not. Useless, Rogers. You are useless to me.” There’s a grin on Tony’s face as he says it, so it’s clear he’s teasing, but Steve decides to fight fire with fire.

“Guess that means I don’t have to finish painting all these fiddly, detailed windows then,” he says, setting the brush down carefully on the edge of the paint can.

Tony whines. “Nonononono!” He grabs at the air as Steve moves to stand up. “Don’t leave, Steve! Don’t make me do it myself!”

“Oh, so I’m _not_ useless after all?” Steve’s fighting back laughter as he crouches down next to Tony again.

Tony looks up and catches Steve’s gaze. He looks him deep in the eye and smiles. “Not useless. Very useful. Helpful. Couldn’t do this without you.”

“Nice to hear you say it,” Steve chuckles as he picks up the paintbrush again and turns back to the window.

“God, I definitely would _not_ enjoy painting all these windows.”

“Well good thing I’m here, then,” Steve says as he reaches out with the paintbrush to dab Tony’s nose.

“Hey!” Tony yelps in indignation, reaching up to rub his nose and frowning at the paint now on his hand. He springs to his feet and launches himself towards Steve. “Get over here, you jerk!”

Steve lets out a hearty laugh as Tony knocks him backwards, sending him sprawling onto his back, and rubs his paint-covered hand along Steve’s side to wipe off the paint on his shirt. Steve still has the paintbrush in his hand, though, so he doesn’t hesitate to drag a long white stripe down the front of Tony’s shirt.

Tony objects with a loud “Gahhh!” and pounces onto Steve, pressing their chests together. “Hah! Now your shirt’s ruined too!”

“I borrowed this shirt from you,” Steve grins as he pushes Tony off him. “Grabbed it from the RV.”

“Sonofabitch,” Tony says, digging his fingers into the sensitive area under Steve’s arm where he knows Steve is ticklish.

Steve lets out a squeal before swatting his hand away and wiggling out of Tony’s reach. “Not like you don’t have a hundred of these,” he says, pointing down at his chest, where the shirt reads ‘PROPERTY OF STARK INDUSTRIES’.


	4. Autumn

* * *

**October**

“Shit, get it up higher!”

“There’s one I’ve never had anyone tell me before.”

“You know, if I didn’t have my hands full with all this siding for _your house_ , I would wring your neck right now, Stark.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Tony grunts, lifting the plywood higher above his head and holding it in place while Steve nails his side down. The rain is pelting down on them as they scramble to get the exposed insulation covered.

“Here.” Steve leans over Tony, reaching up to hold the board as he hammers in the nails. Tony slips out from under his arms, patting him on the hip as he does.

“Thanks, Steve.” He picks up the last board and holds it while Steve drives the nails in. Steve wipes at his forehead to get rid of the water running down his face but it’s fairly pointless in this downpour.

“We gotta get out of this rain.” Tony moves to pick up the box of nails but his foot catches on the wet grass and he slips. He manages to catch himself on the brick wall as he goes down, but his leg is smeared in mud. “Shit.”

“Language,” Steve teases as he stretches out a hand towards Tony, who flips him off with one hand as he takes Steve’s hand with the other and scrambles back to his feet. 

They dash into the house but they’re both drenched, water dripping down from their soaking wet clothes. A shiver runs down Tony’s spine as he watches Steve rubbing the water out of his hair, his gray t-shirt plastered against his body, clinging to every single muscle… _Must be the cold._

Steve must have picked up on his shiver because he says “We need to get out of these wet clothes. You’ll catch a cold. You think this thing still works?”

Tony’s too busy fighting with his subconscious mind, which can’t seem to process any part of what Steve just said besides the part of getting out of their clothes and _what the hell is that all about anyway?_ “Uh huh, yeah, sure.”

“Good. I saw some firewood in the barn. I’ll be right back,” he hears Steve say before running back outside. Tony’s still arguing with his libido, which has apparently decided that now is a good time to wake up. _No, libido, it is not. You are not attracted to Steve, you idiot._ He snaps out of it long enough to spot his flannel overshirt hanging from the doorknob and tugs his soaked shirt over his head.

There’s a loud crash and a string of muttered obscenities and when he frees his head from his shirt he sees Steve scrambling to pick up a pile of dropped firewood.

“Cap, language!”

“I tripped!” Steve practically shouts. 

Tony pulls the dry flannel shirt on and joins Steve in picking up the firewood and setting it in the fireplace. Steve raises an eyebrow skeptically when Tony pulls out a soldering torch to light the wood, but it gets the job done and soon there’s a decent-sized fire burning in the fireplace. 

They stand looking into the flames, each wrapped up in his own thoughts. Tony turns to look at Steve, the light of the fire dancing in his eyes. There’s a streak of dirt smeared across Steve’s forehead and Tony instinctively reaches out to wipe it away. Steve flinches and Tony’s about to pull his hand away when Steve leans into the touch, stepping closer to Tony. Steve’s eyelids drop closed as Tony rubs the dirt away with his thumb and then he opens them and he’s staring down at Tony and it’s as if he’s looking straight _into_ Tony.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Tony hears himself blurt out. _Shit, you just ruined everything_ , he thinks, but then Steve smiles and that stab of worry disappears as quickly as it came.

Steve’s face is just inches away, their noses almost touching, and when Steve leans in to close that gap, to bring his lips to Tony’s in a soft kiss, Tony has to fight back a huge smile of his own. A surge of happiness rolls through him as Steve catches his lower lip, a hint of tongue and a slight scrape of teeth, and Tony manages to stop smiling long enough to kiss him back. Their lips part and he’s grinning again. He still has his hand on Steve’s cheek and he can feel that Steve is grinning too.

“Steve.” The sound escapes him, more of a mumble than actual speech.

“Tony.” His voice is calm and deep. Steve’s hand brushes down Tony’s arm, the sensation sending a shiver down Tony’s spine, then he takes Tony’s hand in his. His other hand settles on Tony’s hip, his thumb brushing roughly over Tony’s hipbone before he pushes and Tony feels himself crashing backwards until he’s up against the wall in the gallery - the wall they put in together last week. He slips his hand around Steve’s waist, settling in the small of his back, and pulls Steve in closer until their bodies are pressed up against each other. Tony can feel the warmth of Steve’s body seeping through and Tony aches to rip off their wet clothes and surround himself with Steve’s body, to feel Steve’s skin against his, to run his fingers over Steve’s skin, to touch him all over. To take Steve in his mouth and swallow him down and hear Steve shout his name as he comes down his throat.

Steve seems to be having similar thoughts, if the groan he lets out when Tony slips his hand under Steve’s shirt and runs it over his back is anything to go by, except then he suddenly pulls away. 

“Do you smell something burning?

“It’s my burning love for you,” Tony wants to answer, or maybe ‘my burning desire,’ but he doesn’t. Instead he inhales, tasting smoke at the back of his throat, and shit, Cap’s right. “Fuuuuck. What the-” 

They rush back into the living room, where thick smoke is billowing out of the fireplace. It looks like the whole chimney is on fire, flames licking at the edge of the mantle.

“Damn it!” Tony says, pulling out his phone to call the fire department while Steve runs out to the RV to get the fire extinguisher. “The _one time_ DUM-E would be useful!”

A hand settles on his shoulder and Steve tears his gaze away from the firemen and police officers bustling in and out of the house to look up and find Tony standing beside him, bathed in the flashing red and blue light of the police cars.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice full of regret. 

Tony presses his lips together, the edges of his mouth barely quirking up in a smile, but there’s warmth in his gaze. 

“Don’t be. It’s an old house. I should’ve known better than to assume the chimneys would be in working condition.” Tony removes his hand from Steve’s shoulder and folds his arms across his chest.

“It was my idea to use the fireplace. We could’ve-”

“Coulda, shoulda, woulda, Peach. Let’s not go down that road. Fire department got it all under control quickly - good thinking on getting the fire extinguisher from the RV, by the way - and the chief says the damage is mostly limited to the living room and the bedroom above it.” Tony shrugs before he continues. “It’s a setback, but nothing we can’t fix. Nothing that’s not fixable,” he corrects quickly. 

They stand in silence side-by-side, watching as the firefighters reel in their hoses now that the fire has been put out. A police officer comes over to take their statements. Tony is subdued as he speaks, his answers straightforward and to the point in a way that they rarely are. He smiles when the police officer is finished, shakes the man’s hand and thanks him for his hard work. 

Just as the police officer is walking away, a black Audi from the Avengers fleet pulls up and Rhodey steps out, accompanied by Natasha. Tony flashes his press grin at Steve. “Cat’s out of the bag now, I guess.” 

Steve presses his lips together in a frown and as he does, the memory of Tony’s lips against his just minutes ago and yet somehow also ages ago surges through him. Tony’s body lined up with his, Tony’s hand under his shirt, Tony pushed up against the wall, his eyes blown wide with desire. Desire for Steve. 

Steve watches as Tony walks over to Rhodey and Natasha, as he explains to an annoyed-looking - and rightfully so - Rhodey about the house. The look on Natasha’s face is less annoyed or upset and more one of amusement and as she catches Steve’s gaze, she winks. She knew, Steve realizes. All this time. Of course she knew. She’s Natasha, and she can read Steve like a book. God, does she know about... Steve catches himself running his thumb over his bottom lip again. He pushes himself away from the car he was leaning on, straightens himself, and is about to join the group when a news van pulls up the drive. 

“Shit,” he hears Tony say. Tony looks over to where Steve is standing. He catches his gaze, holds it. Tony’s just staring, as if he’s trying to transmit his thoughts to Steve, but Steve has no idea what he’s trying to tell him. He needs to talk to Tony, to ask him about what happened back at the house, to hear him say he felt it too, that rushing surge when their lips touched. The feeling of everything suddenly making sense. The feeling of being _home_. But someone’s calling Tony’s name and he looks away and the moment’s gone. Steve can almost feel it being pulled away from him, whatever it was that just transpired slipping past into nevermore.

“So this is what, your fortress of solitude?” Rhodey turns to follow the sweep of the staircase craning his neck as he looks up.

Tony picks idly at a spot of flaking paint. He’s gonna have to take care of that soon. Old house like this, it’s probably all lead-based. But first he needs to fix the damage caused by the fire and he really has to get moving on the heating - no way he’s doing another winter out in that RV again. “Something like that,” he mumbles. “It was gonna be for me and Pepper, just the two of us. Like Barton and his farm.”

He looks up to find Rhodey watching him carefully. Rhodey relaxes his stance after moment and smiles. “You’re an idiot, Tones.”

Tony crosses his arms defensively. 

“You’ve been fixing it up.”

“Yeah.” 

“With Steve.” 

“Yeah.” 

“You kept it a secret from all of us.”

“Yeah, well he found out by chance…” 

“And he’s been out here working on it together, just the two of you, all these months?” Rhodey shakes his head. “You really are an idiot.”

“You know, I’m starting to resent…”

“Anything going on between you two beyond home improvement?”

“What? No!” Tony shoots back without thinking. It’s a knee-jerk reaction and he regrets when he sees the way Rhodey raises an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, okay. Well not really. A little...” 

Rhodey blinks, obviously not convinced. 

Tony leans back against the banister and scrubs a hand over his face. “I don’t know. There wasn’t anything, then there was - well not really, we just kinda made out a little - and then the fire happened and I haven’t heard from him since…”

“You ‘just kinda made out a little’ with _Captain America_?!”

“With Steve Rogers.”

“That’s almost worse. Have you called him?”

“No.” 

Rhodey crosses his arms and glares. “Have you considered the fact that maybe he’s waiting for you to call?”

Tony’s about to shoot back a retort but snaps his mouth shut. He hadn’t considered that. “Doubtful.”

“Dude, my ten-year-old niece has more experience with dating than Rogers.”

“You’ve got a point there, Poohbear.”

“I always have a point. I am the pointiest guy around here. And if you-” Rhodey uncrosses his arms and reaches out to poke Tony, “hadn’t been so busy-” _poke_ “keeping secrets-” _poke_ “I could’ve made my point-” _poke_ “sooner. Spared you to all that pining.”

“Pining? I haven’t been-” Rhodey shoots him such a no-nonsense look as he extends his arm to poke Tony again that Tony cuts off mid-sentence. “Alright Paddington, enough with the poking. This isn’t Facebook. I’ll call him. Look: calling him.” He holds up the phone to show that it’s dialing.

“Hello?” Steve’s voice comes through the speaker.

“Hey Cap. Peach-pie. Steve.” Tony blurts, ducking into the next room to avoid Rhodey’s judgment.

“Hi Tony.”

“How’s it going?” _What the hell, Stark?_

“Uh, fine, thanks. I was just having lunch with Sam and Bucky.”

“Oh, okay, sorry. I can call back.”

“No, no, it’s fine. We’re done. What’s up?” 

“I uh, was just calling to say hi. ’s been a while. Thought I’d I check in.”

“Thanks, Tony.” His voice sounds so fucking earnest. There’s a pause, some shuffling in the background. “Is everything squared away with the house? I mean, after the fire?”

“Yeah, I hired some guys to take care of the chimney. And to put in the heating.”

“Good.” Another pause. Fuck, this is awkward. 

“Well-” 

“Tony.”

“Yeah, Steve?”

“If you need a hand with anything, just, you know, give me a call.”

“Yeah, thanks Steve. See you.” 

“Yeah, see you, Tony.”

Tony presses the button to disconnect and Rhodey pokes his head around the corner. 

“Don’t say it, Rhodes. Don’t fucking say it.” 

“You’re an idiot.”

“So let me get this straight,” Sam says as he smears mayonnaise on the bread. “You’ve been sneaking off to work on this super-secret house restoration project with Tony for the past _year_?”

Steve ducks his head, nodding slightly.

“And you didn’t think to tell any of us?”

“Tony asked me not to.”

Sam and Bucky shoot him twin glares. Steve feels suddenly outnumbered.

“I had to respect his wishes.”

They’re still glaring and Bucky picks up a bit of lettuce and tosses it at him. “All these years and you’re still an idiot.”

“I just didn’t think it was my place to tell if Tony didn’t want it told.” 

“That’s not even what I meant.”

Steve doesn’t have the chance to ask what exactly Bucky did mean because his phone rings. He checks the screen to see that it’s Tony, and he finds that his heart rate accelerates for a second.

“Hello?” Steve feels his voice falter as he answers.

“Hey Cap. Peach-pie. Steve.” Steve can’t help but smile at the nickname.

“Hi Tony.”

It’s an awkward conversation, and Steve can tell Tony’s about to hang up again so he quickly offers to come help work on the house again. He misses the work, the banter with Tony, the feeling of building something. But mostly he just wants to see Tony again. He’ll admit that much to himself. 

After the call ends, Sam and Bucky are still staring at him. Steve sighs and sinks down onto the kitchen stool. “What? I like helping him. I like going out there. It’s just - it’s nice to have something away from all this.” He makes a sweeping gesture to indicate the Avengers facility.

“Hey man, I’m not judging. I totally get it,” Sam says, leaning over to nudge Bucky with his shoulder.

“We just want you to be happy,” Bucky says with a warm smile, leaning into Sam’s touch. “It’s like Erskine told you. You don’t have to be the perfect soldier. You’re a great leader, the best one this team could ask for, but that’s not all that this life is about. Look at us, Steve. You and me, we shouldn’t be alive. We’re on borrowed time. We gotta make this most of it. You’re allowed to let yourself be happy too.”

“Shit, Buck. When did you become a philosopher? That counseling really paid off, huh?”

Bucky shrugs unapologetically as he takes a huge bite of his sandwich. “You just hate it when I’m right, punk.”

**November**

Tony brings the quinjet down gently on the landing site and grabs the VR headset for the new War Machine suit he’s come to drop off. The suit follows him down the cargo bay ramp, where Rhodey is waiting with a smile.

“Tony,” he greets. “Come here, you.”

“I come bearing gifts,” Tony says as he pulls out of the embrace and removes the headset to hand it to Rhodey.

“You’re too good to me.”

“It’s true, I really am. But you insist on shredding every suit I bring you, so I guess I have to keep it up.” 

“That last one wasn’t a total write-off. Just a few bullet holes.”

“A few? Thing looked like Swiss cheese. Anyway, I made a few modifications while I was at it, upped the output on the repulsors, redid the flight stabilization, reworked the HUD, you know, the usual.”

Rhodey raises an eyebrow at Tony as he pulls open the door. “Just a little weekend tinkering?”

Tony shrugs. “You know how it is…”

“Gotta keep yourself busy somehow?”

“Don’t start,” Tony warns. He’d wanted to come up earlier to talk to Steve, but as usual, things had gotten in the way. Wasn’t even his fault this time - there’d been a call to assemble, so Steve had been gone with the rest of the team, and then they’d needed Tony to fix all their gear, so it’s not like he was putting it off purposefully or anything. 

Rhodey raises his hands as if to deflect Tony’s glare. “I said nothing.” 

“But you thought it, and that’s just as bad.”

“Hey, I’m allowed to think whatever I want. It’s a free country.”

As if he’d been summoned by the mere mention of freedom, Steve is there as Tony and Rhodey enter the workspace all the Avengers share, sitting at the counter with an array of tablets spread out around him on the table. He looks up at the sound of their voices and smiles. Tony carefully ignores the way his heart speeds up. 

“Hey Steve,” he greets.

“Hi Tony. I see you’ve been busy,” Steve replies, nodding to the suit following them.

Tony turns to look at it and waves dismissively. “Yeah, you know, work never ends. As you seem to be aware.” He gestures towards the tablets as he says it.

“Yeah, going over some data.”

“AIM is up to something,” Natasha says. Where did she come from?! Tony’s heart definitely missed a beat there. Must be an Avengers thing. They’re clearly all trying to kill him.

“I hate AIM,” Tony grumbles. 

“Think we all do,” Rhodey agrees.

“Hey, maybe you wouldn’t mind taking a look at some of this data?” Steve asks. “You know AIM better’n most of us.”

“Yeah, sure.” Tony steps around the counter, and yeah, he puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder, but it’s just to steady himself so he can get a better look at the tablets. Honestly, why don’t they use digital wireframe models?

And when Steve reaches up to brush his fingers over Tony’s hand, well, that’s just a bonus. A really nice bonus.

The thought quickly gets pushed aside, though, as he dives more deeply into the data in front of him. Past activity, troop movements, energy spikes in the area correlated with local weather patterns - Tony takes it all in, his mind dancing through the information, stitching it together, taking it apart until it all flattens out in front of him and there it is:

“Shit.”

“What is it?” Steve asks.

“They’re planning something. This is gonna be big. This is gonna be bad. Call in all the guns.”

“You want me to call the team to assemble?”

Tony nods, his eyes still darting through the data. “Yup. We’re gonna need everyone.”

“Roger that, Iron Man.” His tone of voice switches immediately, all business as he presses the call button. The klaxon rings out through the facility, followed by his announcement - Captain America’s announcement: “Avengers, assemble!”

Tony sets to work uploading the mission data to the Avengers’ communications systems and, for good measure, to FRIDAY. Behind him, Rhodey is already climbing into his new suit. 

“Time for a test drive,” he tells the suit.

It only takes a minute for the rest of the team to arrive in their combat gear - Captain America, Black Widow, Vision, Scarlet Witch and Falcon, followed closely by Bucky, who’s shrugging into the black armored jacket Tony had brought him a few weeks ago. 

Steve shoots him a look but turns to the screens with the mission data instead. “AIM has a repurposed bunker in South Dakota that our data indicates it is using for its latest project. We don’t know for sure what it is, but it’s using a lot of power and seems to be affecting the local weather. So we’re gonna need to be especially careful. But this is AIM, so they’re probably heavily fortified. They won’t hesitate to use force, so we aren’t going to either. We hit ‘em hard, we hit ‘em quick.”

“South Dakota?” Sam asks.

Steve nods, but Natasha replies. “Perfect hiding place. Far from any watchful eyes and lots of space for testing.”

“Alright then, let’s go,” Sam says. 

The team heads for the quinjet, Steve running through the mission plan on the way. They’re on the ramp to the landing pad when he pulls Bucky aside.

“Barnes, you’re not cleared for missions yet.”

Bucky responds by lowering his goggles over his eyes. “Like I’m gonna let you guys go without me. I’m not going to sit on the sidelines while the people I care about put themselves in danger. And you of all people can’t talk me out of that. You’re gonna need hard hitters, and guess what - I hit hard.” He flexes his metal arm before balling his hand into a fist.

“Yeah, I’m with Frosty on that,” Tony cuts in, stepping next to Bucky. “Like I said - you’re gonna need _everyone_. And I’d really hate to miss a chance to hit AIM.”

Steve glares the two of them, clearly weighing their statements in his mind. “You sure you’re ready?” he asks, his words directed at Bucky.

Bucky nods once. Steve nods in return and steps aside for Bucky to join the rest of the team in the jet before turning to Tony. He says nothing, but the question is evident.

Tony spreads his arms, smiling as the parts of the Iron Man suit he keeps in his quinjet come flying and assemble around him. “Hey Mark 49, come to Daddy.”

“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Steve asks.

A smile crosses Tony’s face. It feels good to be back in the suit - great, actually. “Sure as ever, Peach. That alright with you?”

Steve smiles at the nickname and nods. “Tony, I think we both know that if you had really wanted to get away from this, to leave it all behind you, you wouldn’t have bought the house _next door_. Welcome back, Iron Man.”

There’s actual cheering from inside the quinjet as Tony steps over to Steve and presses a quick kiss into the corner of his mouth before flipping down the faceplate and engaging the repulsors to take off. 

“See you guys in South Dakota.”

At least Rhodey’s nice enough to wait until it’s just the two of them, Iron Man and War Machine, flying over Lake Erie well ahead of the quinjet before he says “Good to see you’ve got that sorted out.”

“Shove it, War Machine,” Tony growls.

“Glad to have you back, Tones.”

Tony catches himself grinning like a damn fool as he swoops through the air, flying loops and dips just because. Because it’s fun. Because he _can_. Because he’d missed this, and he’s only now realizing just how much.

The plan was fairly straight-forward - the flyers take out the aerial defensive system and anyone on the ground outside, then drop off the non-flyers so they can fight their way down to the lower levels, where the energy spikes are coming from and where they are most likely to find whatever AIM is working on. Thing about plans is, the bad guys rarely stick to them.

It starts off well enough - with the added firepower of Iron Man on the team, the flyers make pretty quick work of the guns ringed around the bunker. And even though Tony hasn’t been part of the team’s training sessions, he works seemingly intuitively with War Machine and Vision. Steve makes a mental note to pair him with Falcon for the next few rounds of training to even out any weaknesses in their team. This is Tony and Sam’s first time fighting together, so it’s not a surprise that they don’t have a natural coherence yet, but that can change. 

All of their training in the past months really shows when War Machine and Falcon team up to take out a particularly well-fortified gun. War Machine draws its firepower to himself, swooping up and around just at the limits of the gun’s range, while Falcon darts in from the side to drop an explosive into the turret. 

“Eat that,” Sam says, spinning in the air as Rhodey drops down to his altitude for a high five.

“Good work Falcon, War Machine,” Steve says over the comm line. “Any time you guys feel like coming in to give us a lift, that’d be great.”

“Yeah, let’s get the real fight started,” Bucky says, cracking the knuckles of his metal hand. Steve shoots him a look to ask if that even has a purpose, but Bucky just grins and shrugs in response.

“Aw, our earthbound friends are jealous cuz we’re stealing all their glory,” Rhodey replies, but he’s already headed their way. He touches down on the roof that Steve, Bucky, Wanda and Natasha are waiting on and extends a hand to Natasha. “M’lady, your chariot awaits.”

“Why thank you,” Natasha replies with a slight quirk to her lips as she reaches up to grab his shoulder. “Off you go then.”

Vision arrives just after, Falcon and Iron Man behind him. Wanda wraps an arm around Vision’s waist, Bucky does the same with Falcon and the four of them fly off.

“Guess that leaves us, Peach,” Tony says. The faceplate is still down, but Steve can hear him grinning.

“Guess so,” he says with a nod.

“How do you want it, Cap? The old ‘hug & fly’ like Widow and War Machine? Or you wanna ride me like a pony?”

“Oh shove it, Iron Man,” Steve says, wrapping an arm around the suit’s waist.

“Maybe later-”

“Aw guys, save it for after!” Rhodey objects over the comm line.

Tony laughs and takes hold of the belt on Steve’s uniform. “Hang on tight, Cap.” With that, he takes off, one hand holding Steve around the waist and the other held out for stability.

Steve can’t help grinning - flying with Tony has always been a rush for him, and today even more so. He curls his hands a bit more tightly around the suit, not because he needs to hold on, but because he wants to.

And that’s when the gunfire starts again. Tony banks hard to the left to avoid the spray of bullets. “Hold on, Cap,” he huffs as Steve slips down in his grip. The suit wavers in the air - it’s difficult to stabilize with only one arm free.

“I’m on it,” Rhodey calls over the comms and Steve sees a flash of silver in the distance darting towards the source of the gunfire.

Tony climbs higher, out of the gun’s range, and wraps his other arm around Steve to haul him up. “I gotcha, Peach.”

There’s an explosion behind them and the gunfire ceases. “You’re clear,” Rhodey informs them.

“Thanks bro,” Tony replies and he turns the suit to descend towards where the others are.

“I got your six, man,” Rhodey answers.

Natasha, Wanda and Bucky have already headed into the bunker when Steve and Tony reach the entrance. “Good,” Steve says. “Widow, you continue to the control room, I’ll be behind you. Witch and Winter, try and find the main lab. Vision, you go with them. You find any interesting tech, call Iron Man. You two-” he points to Iron Man and Rhodey “-blow stuff up. Falcon, you stay up top, take out anything left over, keep an eye on anyone or anything coming in.”

“Wilco,” Sam says with a nod as he spreads his wings

Tony rubs gauntleted hands together. “This is my favorite part.”

“Yep,” Rhodey agrees as they both take off again.

Vision looks at Steve with the same expression of amused ennui. “So glad to have him back,” he says dryly.

Steve laughs as he heads into the bunker, Vision following behind him. They have to step carefully around the unconscious - and some lifeless - bodies of AIM agents. 

“I see you’ve been busy, Widow.”

“You were late. We got bored,” she replies. There are sounds of fighting in the background.

An AIM agent appears around the corner, but Steve takes him out easily with a swift knock using the flat face of his shield. “What’s your status?”

“Lots of agents,” Bucky grunts. “Plenty to share if you ever show up.”

“On our way.” Steve nods to Vision and they jog down the hall in the direction the others have gone. Just follow the trail of the bodies.

They part ways with a quick nod as the corridor splits, the control room to the left and the lower levels to the right, and Steve sets off at a quick jog to catch up with Natasha.

She’s got the situation pretty well under control, Steve concludes when he gets to the control room and sees her take out three agents with one of her infamous roundhouse kicks. Steve finds himself really hoping he never ends up on the other side of one of those.

Another agent pushes forward towards Natasha, but Steve takes him out with a quick toss of his shield.

“Nice of you to show up, Cap,” Natasha teases as she turns to the control terminal. She’s slightly out of breath, but otherwise looks like nothing out of the ordinary is going on.

“My ride got held up,” Steve counters, knocking out another agent headed towards them. 

Steve keeps the room clear of AIM agents trying to get in while Natasha types away furiously at the terminal. It’s heavily encrypted, she informs him, but nothing she won’t be able to break through.

“You need a hand?” Tony’s voice comes over the comm line. “Running out of stuff to blow up out here.”

“I got it,” Natasha responds. “Just need a few more minutes.”

“We could use some blowing-up-of-stuff down here in the labs,” Bucky informs them. “And maybe your sciencey input, Iron Man. They’ve got some weird machinery in here.”

“Heading in,” Tony says, the repulsors already whirring in the background.

It’s just moments later when Steve sees a flash of red and gold burst through the wall of the control room, streaking towards him.

“Iron M- TONY!” Steve lets out, his voice going from commanding to confusion as the wind is knocked out of him when he gets tossed across the room and into a wall. He’s almost too surprised by the sudden attack to worry about the fact that Tony is attacking him, or to wonder why. Has Tony been possessed by something? Did he get caught in the crossfire of one of Wanda’s dream spells? How did he get in here so fast? He was supposed to go to the lab...

But Iron Man is already zooming his way, repulsors held up and ready to fire, and Steve only just manages to get his shield up in time. The repulsor beam deflects back at the suit, which crumples to the ground. Steve peels himself off the wall and rushes over to where the suit is lying, and that’s when recognition sets in - that isn’t Tony’s suit. It looks like an older version, maybe Mark 43.

“We have impostors in the field,” Steve hisses into the comm line as he peels back the faceplate of the suit. There’s no face behind it, just a jumble of hardware and circuitry. “Some sort of robots that look like an older Iron Man suit.”

“Aw, they say imitation is the highest form of flattery,” Tony drawls. 

“Not just Iron Man,” Bucky grunts through the comm line. “I just got punched in the face by Black Widow.”

Steve looks over to Natasha, who is in fact standing just behind him, glancing down at the impostor robot.

“You probably deserved it, Winter,” she says nonchalantly, turning back to the data hub.

“I’ve found the source of these impostors,” Vision informs them. “Lab 3, fourth level down.”

“I’m on my way,” Tony says.

There are five impostors out there, it turns out, though they were hard to keep count of at first since they apparently can change form, taking on the appearance of the Avengers. Which causes quite a bit of confusion, and old trust issues are brought to light as it becomes hard to tell their actual team members from the fake. Wanda and Bucky are the ones to put an end to the fight ultimately - her telepathy doesn’t work on the robot doppelgangers, making it easier to identify them. The doppelgangers seem to be based on the last-seen incarnation of the Avengers, which explains why the first one they took out had the form of an older Iron Man suit. The Winter Soldier has never been seen fighting with the Avengers, though, so the impostors don’t know his form.

“Everyone else out. Witch and I will take care of them,” Bucky had ordered.

“You heard him,” Steve orders. “Iron Man, have you found anything?”

Tony and Vision are focused on the machine in front of them, the fabrication unit for these impostors, while Rhodey keeps the lab clear of AIM agents. They’ve managed to shut the machine down so it can’t produce any more, and now Tony is scanning the code to see how they’re controlled.

“They’re called Adaptives,” Tony replies. “Each is an autonomous unit, so I can’t shut them down remotely. That would be too easy…” He taps in a few commands to bring up a different section of the code.

“Bullets don’t work too well on them,” Bucky notes.

“No, they wouldn’t. These guys have some sort of protective shielding. But I think I can... hang on…” He watches the code scroll past, absorbing the information, and adds a string of code. “That ought to help.”

There’s a loud _crunch_ over the comm line. “Thanks, Stark.”

Natasha informs them a few moments later that she’s apprehended the guy in charge, and soon Wanda declares that the last of the Adaptives has been taken care of.

“Alright team, good work. The cleanup team is on their way. Let’s wrap things up here.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Tony steps back into his suit and heads down to the lab where the remains of the Adaptives are. He’s bent over one of the robot shells when he hears quick footsteps behind him and turns around to find their source.

“Stark,” Bucky growls.

“Yes, Buckaroo,” Tony replies, going for light-hearted as he tries to work out why Barnes’ metal hand is suddenly wrapped around the neck of his suit and lifting him up.

“You know I could crush this suit, right?”

Panic starts to well up - maybe Barnes wasn’t ready for a mission yet? Is it possible that the battle triggered something in the Winter Soldier? Is Barnes going supervillain on them? Unlikely, since he kinda just saved the day and all, but what the hell? Tony brings up one of his gauntleted hands to grip Bucky’s arm, the repulsors whining as they charge, and for good measure he brings out the little missiles on his shoulders, just as a not-exactly-friendly reminder.

“I do know that. I can shoot you dead faster.”

“You won’t, though. That would be counter-productive.”

“What’s this about, Barnes?”

“Just a reminder.” Bucky releases his grip and lets his hand slip down to just above where the arc reactor sits. Tony’s glad the faceplate hides his wince. “Hurt him and I _will_ crush you.”

Tony’s left blinking as Bucky gives his chest a pat that’s a bit too hard to be considered friendly before he stalks off.

“I believe that was Sergeant Barnes’ version of the ‘shovel speech’, boss.”

“Yeah, got that, thanks FRIDAY,” Tony wheezes, trying to get his thumping heart back to a normal rate.

Steve clears his throat as he steps off his motorcycle. It feels like there’s something constricting it, his breath coming a little harder than usual since he turned up the drive to Tony’s house. He tugs at the collar of his jacket to loosen it before he realizes it wasn’t even zippered up.

It’s been a few days since their mission, and they’d all been so wrapped up in post-mission work that there hadn’t been a chance for Steve and Tony to talk alone about anything beyond the mission and Tony’s renewed involvement in the Avengers. It had sat there between them, the white elephant that was the complicated nature of their relationship - well not _relationship_ in that sense, maybe friendship is the better word? But they’re not really just friends, are they? He’s _friends_ with Bucky and Sam and Natasha, but him and Tony, that’s different. No matter how much he tries to tell himself differently.

Tony is leaning against one of the columns that supports the porch as he reaches up to nail the frieze in place. He has to stretch to reach; Steve tugs at his collar again as he takes in the way Tony’s back arches, the way his sweater is riding up just high enough to expose his hip bones. Steve remembers how it felt to run his thumb over those bumps.

“Hey Steve,” Tony’s saying, and Steve snaps out of his daze to catch Tony’s gaze. His smile is warm, his stance relaxed.

“Hi Tony,” Steve replies. He takes the steps up the porch two at a time but pulls to a stop just in front of Tony.

Tony sets the hammer down on the balustrade and runs a hand through his hair. “Thanks for coming. I really could use a hand with this.”

“Yeah, sure, of course.” 

Steve picks up the hammer and the box of nails and finishes installing the frieze, then he and Tony talk about what happened and come to a mutual agreement that changing the nature of their relationship would endanger their friendship and could hurt the team, especially with Tony being back in the Avengers now, then they part ways amicably and Steve goes back to his punching bag.

At least that’s what his head tells him to do.

Instead he’s crossing those last few steps between him and Tony and taking Tony’s face in his hands and leaning down to kiss Tony a little harder than he probably should because Tony lets out a little surprised squeak, but then Tony’s kissing him back and the whole speech he’d prepared in his head is suddenly gone, his mind completely blank, because Tony’s hands are sliding up his back and his tongue is slowly, ever so slowly, teasing Steve’s mouth open.

Well that’s that, then.

He slips a hand around the back of Tony’s head to cushion it as he pushes Tony back against the column, the other trailing down the side of Tony’s body to cup his butt, pulling Tony closer to him.

“Geeeezus, Rogers,” Tony exhales, and that’s apparently when Steve’s brain catches up to the rest of his body and it hits him that he’s making out with Tony Stark. Does Tony feel the same way, or is he just kissing back for the sake of kissing? Is Steve just going to be another name on the (long) list of people Tony has hooked up with? Steve finds himself suddenly insecure, needing to know, and he pulls back.

Tony’s eyes flutter open a few seconds later and meet Steve’s with such an unmistakable look of fondness that Steve can’t help but smile.

“Shit,” he murmurs as it hits him.

“Langua-” Tony starts, but Steve continues.

“I think I’m in love with you, Tony.” There it is. Everything he’s naively been not feeling summarized in just a few words. His eagerness to spend weekends installing pipes and spackling drywall. Those little touches they’ve both been sneaking in while they were working side by side, the playful shoves and reassuring hands on the shoulder. The way his heart jumps whenever his phone dings to let him know there’s a new message from Tony. The knot in his stomach when he reads about Tony being spotted out with some model.

There’s a moment of hesitation before Tony responds, a moment just long enough for Steve to start questioning, to wonder if he’d read it all wrong, if it’s too soon, if he’s messed it all up completely now.

But then a smile spreads over Tony’s face that quickly morphs into the biggest grin Steve has ever seen on him.

“Good,” Tony finally says, pressing a soft kiss just under Steve’s jaw. “Cuz the feeling’s mutual.”

Steve tugs Tony a little closer, nuzzling into his hair.

“Think I have been for a while,” Tony adds softly.

“Oh yeah?” Steve lets a playful tone shine through in his voice. He’s so happy he could burst, but he’ll never pass up an opportunity to tease Tony into opening up.

Tony lets out a long huff of air; Steve relishes the feel of warm breath on his neck. “Think I was too wrapped up in everything else to realize it. I remember waking up, that night at Barton’s place when we had to bunk up together, and I saw you sleeping next to me and my first instinct was to reach over and brush the hair off your forehead.”

“Wish you’d followed that instead of your second instinct.” Steve laughs warmly as he says it, recalling that morning. They’d both protested at the idea of having to share a bed at first, but eventually they’d accepted the situation. And although Tony had complained about Steve’s broad shoulders taking up more than half the bed and Steve had countered that Tony’s restless shifting was making the bed creak, they’d both fallen asleep soon enough and had actually managed to get a good night’s sleep, which was impressive in its own right, considering both of their insomniac tendencies and the impending conflict weighing on their minds. “Pretty sure Barton has that picture you took of me drooling into the pillow hanging in a frame in his living room.”

“Pretty sure he does.” Tony’s laughing too, the vibrations humming in Steve’s chest.

Steve pulls away just far enough to cup Tony’s face in his hands. “I don’t want to talk about Barton anymore right now.”

Tony laughs quietly, leaning up to steal a quick kiss before he replies. “What _do_ you want to talk about right now?”

“Nothing. I don’t want to talk,” Steve admits as he catches Tony’s lips in a lingering kiss.

They spend what feels like hours and also mere seconds leaned up against that column, long kisses interspersed with quick nuzzles, fingers trailing over each other’s upper bodies, carefully not wandering south of the beltline though it’s evident that they’re both up for it.

A gust of cool wind picks up the leaves scattered in front of the house, and Tony shivers slightly as the cold air touches his lower back, left exposed where Steve had pushed up his shirt to caress along his spine.

“Wanna take this inside?” Steve asks as he nudges Tony’s face aside to get better access to the soft skin at the side of his neck. He receives a low groan from Tony in response, and that’s all the encouragement he needs. Slipping his hand down around the waistline of Tony’s pants, he grabs hold firmly and pulls Tony with him as he steps backwards through the front door of the house.

Tony follows willingly, kicking the door shut carefully behind him and nudging Steve back against the wall of the foyer. His lips brush over his earlobe, his beard rubbing just hard enough over Steve’s skin to tickle as Tony kisses his way down his neck until they reach the collar of his shirt. Steve shudders momentarily in surprise as hands slip under his shirt, fingers digging into his back to pull him close, bringing their hips together. Tony pushes at the fabric of Steve’s shirt and he raises his arms to comply with the request. He watches as Tony tosses it onto the banister of the staircase, his gaze fixed on Steve’s exposed torso.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Steve points out with an amused chuckle.

Tony growls in response as he surges forward to kiss Steve’s pectoral, pushing him more firmly against the wall. Tony’s fingers trail along the lines of his abs, roaming down, and Steve arches into the touch.

“Much better up close,” Tony murmurs between kisses. He slips a hand around Steve’s waist and squeezes. “You really are gorgeous,Steve. Shit. Come on, let’s take this party upstairs.”

Steve gulps down the breath that’s caught in the back of his throat. “Yep,” he answers quickly, turning Tony and shoving him up the stairs ahead of him. He tugs at Tony’s shirt and Tony pulls it off, throwing it haphazardly over the railing, which it slides down to settle next to Steve’s discarded shirt at the end of the railing. Steve drinks in the sight of Tony’s back muscles as he jogs up the steps in front of him, and as soon as they reach the landing, Steve wraps him up in a tight hug from behind, trailing kisses along the curve of his neck. 

He feels Tony’s breath catch. “Steeeeeve,” Tony lets out, his voice little more than a whine. Tony’s hand comes up to settle on Steve’s arm, its reassuring warmth seeping into Steve’s skin.

Steve smiles into the side of Tony’s head and gives him an affectionate squeeze. He still can’t quite believe this is real, that he and Tony are standing here together, shirtless because they’re in the process of undressing each other, possibly - probably - likely on their way to bed together in this house they’ve poured so much of themselves into.

But they won’t get there by standing around here, Steve thinks as he lets his hand drop to stroke down Tony’s front. His fingers brush across the button of Tony’s pants, flicking it open, and Steve pulls him closer against himself, rolling his hips slightly into Tony’s ass for Tony to feel his arousal. Tony replies promptly by turning around and grabbing Steve by the wrist, dragging him into the master bedroom.

“So glad I ordered a bed,” Tony huffs out as they fall onto it, pulling Steve down on top of himself. “And that I hate jerking off without lube, so I have that here too.” He freezes before adding, more quietly, “If, uh, if that’s where this is going…”

Steve pulls just far enough from the patch of Tony’s collarbone he’s nuzzling to look up at Tony. “That’s where this is going.”

He turns his attention back to Tony’s collarbone, letting his eyes drop closed when Tony scrapes his fingers over his scalp.

“I, uh, I don’t think I have any condoms, though…”

“Can’t catch anything anyway,” Steve murmurs into Tony’s pectoral.

“Well for the record, I just got tested a few weeks ago - always a good idea - so there’s not anything for you to not catch anyway.”

Steve catches himself smiling at how much he loves when Tony babbles to hide nervousness, and he hauls himself up to press a kiss into the corner of Tony’s mouth. “Well that’s reassuring. It’s important to know these things, and to be open about it with your partner.”

“Oh my god, Rogers, you’re a walking public service announcement.”

“You love it,” Steve laughs, nipping lightly at Tony’s neck as he tugs Tony’s pants down. 

“I do.” Tony smiles as he shimmies out of his pants and boxers, tossing them haphazardly off the side of the bed.

Steve drinks in the sight of Tony Stark, naked in bed with him and obviously excited about that, judging by his very undeniable erection. 

“And you can call me Steve, really. I think we can be on a first-name basis with each other at this point,” he adds with a wink.

Tony lets out a huff of indignant laughter and swats at Steve. “Keep staring at me like that and not touching me and I’m gonna call you a lot of other names soon, starting with ‘tease’ and getting progressively more colorful.”

Steve smiles. He’s not sure how to proceed - he’s never done this with a man before - so he reaches out hesitantly, rubbing his thumb over Tony’s hipbone, along the line of muscles that leads down to where Tony’s cock is lying against his stomach. He curls his fingers around it carefully, stroking upwards a few times. Tony responds with a happy groan, so Steve picks up the pace a bit, rubbing his thumb over the head lightly on the downstroke. Tony sucks in a hiss of breath, his head pushing further back into the pillow. He’s chewing on his lower lip, his brow furrowed and eyes pinched shut.

Steve takes it as a good sign, so he leans closer to nip at Tony’s chest, catching a nipple lightly between his teeth and flicking his tongue over it.

Tony’s eyes flutter open. “Christ, Steve,” he grinds out. 

His hands come up to push Steve back, and Steve pulls his hands away quickly, worried he’s done something wrong.

“You are wearing entirely too much clothing,” Tony murmurs as he reaches down to unbutton Steve’s pants, pushing at the waistband to indicate that Steve should remove them.

He stands and obediently steps out of his pants, dropping them carefully on the floor next to the bed. _Might as well go full out_ , he decides, and slips out of his boxer briefs as well.

Tony’s gaze drops to Steve’s mid-riff, and Steve could swear he catches him licking his lips as he sits up. 

A hand on his hip pulls him closer until he’s standing just in front of Tony, and a surprised gasp escapes him as Tony wraps his lips around his cock.

“Wow, that’s- geeeeezus.”

How Tony manages to grin like that with his mouth, well, otherwise occupied is nothing short of impressive, and nearly deadly combined with that devilish twinkle in his eye.

He’s also incredibly good at this, and it takes almost disappointingly little time for Steve to start to feel that building tension somewhere deep in his belly.

“Tony, I’m - wait, Tony.” 

Tony doesn’t react. Steve reaches down to tug his hair, which only seems to make him more enthusiastic. Steve makes a note of that for future reference.

“Tony, stop.”

That finally gets his attention, and he pulls away. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I, uh, I was getting close.”

“That’s kinda the point, Peach,” Tony replies with a grin as he leans forward to press his reddened lips against Steve’s hipbone.

Steve slides a finger under Tony’s chin to tilt his face up as he bends down for a kiss. “I wanted - I want to make love to you,” he says when they finally part again. He watches the muscles of Tony’s neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps down a breath.

“Alright. Yes. Great idea, Peach-pie. So, how do we do this?” Tony asks, and Steve smiles when he sees Tony wince at his own awkwardness.

He lets himself drop onto the bed next to Tony and props himself up on his elbow, poking his index finger into Tony’s bicep. “Uh, you’re supposed to be the one who knows these things. I’ve never been with a man before. Though I have seen videos on the internet…”

“Um, okay, we’re gonna talk more about that later, because the idea of Captain America watching gay porn on his StarkPad all alone in the Avengers facility is doing all sorts of weird things to me, but I meant more along the lines of: top or bottom? Do I get to be the first to climb Mount Rogers or do you prefer to catch rather than pitch?” Tony trails a finger down Steve’s body as he speaks, starting at his nose and finally ending at his navel.

“I want you, Tony.”

“We’ve already cleared up the who, what, where and whys, Peach. How?”

“I’d like to-” Steve bites his lip hesitantly.

“Speak,” Tony growls, surging up to nip at Steve’s collarbone while he wraps a hand around Steve’s cock. 

“I’d like to, um, to top, this time. If that’s alright with you.” 

“Yeah,” Tony nods, his voice suddenly raspy, “definitely alright. I don’t usually- but yeah, with you, definitely alright.”

He watches as Tony rolls over to the edge of the bed, his ass up in the air as he leans over the edge to look under the bed. “Where did it - ah! Got it!” he proclaims, popping up again holding a small bottle triumphantly.

He settles back down among the pillows, gives himself a lazy stroke, and Steve can’t help but stare, utterly at a loss for words, when Tony squeezes lube on his fingers and reaches down to prep himself. Steve finally blinks, swallows. “Uh, can I-?”

Tony stares back at him, the look of surprise giving way to a shit-eating grin. “You want to?”

Steve nods quickly.

“Be my guest,” Tony replies, tossing the bottle at him.

Steve squeezes out a generous amount, rubbing it between his hands to warm it up a little before reaching down.

A glimmer of realization flashes in Tony’s eyes. “You’ve done this before…”

Steve lets out a chuckle. “I have not. But-” he says, swirling his slicked fingers around the muscle, “I’m not exactly the blushing virgin that popular belief would paint me to be.”

Tony cocks his head and raises an eyebrow. “Is that ssss-oh!” 

His words are cut off as Steve slips a finger in. “I _have_ spent a lot of time with soldiers. And even back in the forties, guys were trying to get their girls to let them do this. And soldiers like to talk.”

“God bless the US Army,” Tony grinds out, rocking down towards Steve.

“Though I learned most of this from the USO girls,” Steve adds with a wink.

“Captain Rogers, you sly dog!”

“Says the guy who went twelve-for-twelve with the Maxim cover girls.”

Tony frowns slightly, and Steve’s not sure if it’s at what he said or from him adding another finger. Tony throws an arm over his eyes. “Easy, tiger. ‘S been a long time. And can we please not talk about that now?”

Steve leans forward, lifting Tony’s arm with his free hand and pressing soft kisses to his temple. “Yeah, sorry. You’re doin’ so good, love.”

Tony hums and arches his back as Steve starts to move his fingers again, kissing along the dips of Tony’s stomach as he does.

Then Tony indicates that he’s ready, pushes Steve onto his back and sinks himself down onto Steve’s cock, staring down at him with those wide brown eyes the whole time, and Steve finds himself momentarily blindsided by how _incredible_ that feels. Better than with the women he’s been with, better than the rush he gets from a fight or from painting. Better than anything, really. And not just in the physical sense. Like the missing piece he didn’t know he was looking for. He curls a hand around Tony’s arm to pull him down for a lingering kiss as it hits him. This man, this house they’ve restored together - this is where he’s meant to be.

Tony tears himself away from the line of Steve’s abs that he’s trailing kisses along - which is definitely Tony’s new favorite way to start the day - to look up at Steve. The mid-morning sun is streaming in, casting sideways shadows across that glorious super-soldier chest, and he’s got his arms folded behind his head, his head tipped slightly to the side. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips and he’s got a blissed-out, thoroughly debauched look to him (‘I did that,’ Tony thinks, smiling to himself), but there’s definitely something on his mind. Tony figures it probably isn’t him rethinking this thing between them, at least he sincerely hopes it isn’t.

He hauls himself up and curls around Steve’s side. Steve seems to snap out of his thoughts as Tony changes position, and he unfolds his arms to tuck one under Tony’s head. He reaches over with his other arm to pull Tony’s arm across his torso as he smiles down at Tony.

Okay, probably not rethinking things then.

“Something on your mind?” Tony prompts carefully.

Steve scrubs his hand over his face, rubbing at the corner of his eye. He furrows his eyebrows in that adorable the way he always does when he’s not sure what to say (hey, Tony’s _allowed_ to think that’s adorable now). 

“I think - for so long, my life has always been about the next fight, the coming battle. It defined everything I did, the people I surrounded myself with.” He gestures vaguely towards Tony and then towards the Avengers facility in the distance. “I thought that was just who I was. Somewhere along the way, I think I lost track of how to simply ‘be.’ Working on this house, building this together with you - you’ve showed me that, Tony. So thanks, I suppose.”

Tony smiles into Steve’s boob, a light-hearted tone to his voice when he responds: “Oh good, here I was worried you were having doubts about this.” 

He nibbles Steve’s chest playfully for good measure.

Steve chuckles quietly and presses a kiss into Tony’s hair. “No, definitely not that. This, this is… I don’t even know. Amazing. Incredible. Everything I never knew I wanted. I wouldn’t give this up again, no way.”

And Tony knows Steve is just stubborn enough to actually mean that, too. Tony can practically picture the obstinate look on Steve’s face if Tony were to try to break things off with him. He’d probably just shake his head and say “Nope, I do not accept” and refuse to budge. But what if Steve were the one to decide to end things between them? What if Steve went all ‘tear this fucker down’ like he had at the Triskelion? Geez, the mayhem that would cause… The consequences it would have, on the team, on the Avengers Initiative, on the world, really.

Shit. Tony should know better than to let his brain start thinking thoughts before coffee.

He takes a deep breath in an effort to dial himself back a bit. “Steve. I don’t know how this is going to work. I’m terrible at relationships. It’s actually been scientifically proven. I mess things up.”

Steve pulls him closer, a hand running through Tony’s hair. There’s an amused tone to his voice when he replies “Can’t be any worse than me. I’ve never even really _been_ in a relationship.”

Tony tries but fails to hide a snort of laughter in Steve’s shoulder.

Steve frees one hand to cup Tony’s chin and turn his face so that their eyes meet. He’s got his Serious Face on. “Do you want this?”

Tony’s mouth quirks up in a half-smile. “God, yes.”

Steve’s face softens and he’s smiling now too, a relaxed smile that’s full of warmth. “Good. Then we’ll figure it out. Together.”

“Geez Steve,” Tony says as he pokes him in the ribs, “who knew you’d turn out be such a big ol’ sap?”

**April**

“Oh god, I just want to sleep for days. Preferably in the hot tub,” Tony groans as he pushes open the front door. He saunters in, dumping his keys on the table in the hall before disappearing into the living room. There’s an “oomph” that indicates he’s just flopped onto the couch, followed by the sound of his shoes being kicked off.

It had been a rough mission for all of them. Not as bad as New York or Sokovia, but not exactly what any of them would consider fun.

“You coming, Peach?” 

Steve lingers in the doorway, taking it all in: the fresh paint on the walls and window frames, the newly lacquered parquet flooring, the red flecks of light on the wall in the stairwell from the stained glass window on the floor above. It’s taken a lot of work to get to where they are now, but it was worth it. He smiles as he steps into the living room to see Tony sprawled out on the dark blue sofa, clutching one of the embroidered throw pillows that Laura Barton gave them as a housewarming gift. HOME IS WHERE YOUR ARC REACTOR IS, it reads. Tony’s knocked the other one onto the floor. Steve can’t see it from here, but he knows what it says: HOME IS WHERE YOU HANG YOUR SHIELD.

“Just a sec,” Steve replies as he pulls his shield off his back and sets it on its peg in the foyer before joining his partner on the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there we have it! I hope you liked it! Kudos and comments are always greatly appreciated, also feel free to come say hi on [tumblr](http://imafriendlydalek.tumblr.com/).
> 
> The idea for this fic came in large part from watching RDJ wandering through that empty house in the music video to "I Want Love" and imagining Tony doing the same. A playlist of that song and some of the other songs that inspired this fic/make me think of these two dweebs can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLPY4uFkrou-Cl9wM3rRX095jXdZhH1Hsd).
> 
> EDIT: The amazing and fantabulous Lienwyn has worked her magic again and made some bonus art! This takes place right after the last picture and is glorious, beautiful flufffluffflufffluffffffff!  
> 


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